The Discount Smeet
by dib07
Summary: AU story. It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be going home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet slowly becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against all those who want defectives dead. Gorgeous story artwork by Alicartin.
1. The Smeet

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be going home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet slowly becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against those who want all defectives dead.

 **Warnings:**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. Alternative Universe.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

 **The story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Sin Hogar/tenebrio. The picture is owned by her. Please do not use/burrow without her or my permission. Thanks for reading! ^^**

P.S I love you **Sin Hogar!** I can't express how much I ADORE this picture! The next chapter's going to be dedicated to you!

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 **AN:**

This story will seem a bit bizarre and it is. The thing is, I dreamt it, and I had to get it down on paper AND then took to writing it to get it out of my system or it would just clog up my brain! ^^

It's my first AU and it doesn't make one bit of sense. But I thought I'd share it, as it is a little fun sci-fi flick with Dib07 nonsense thrown in. I tried to keep it light-hearted but I failed. I also tried to commission someone to do a picture for this story from deviant art, and it sadly isn't happening and turned out to be a huge waste of time, so luckily **Sin Hogar** came to the rescue and helped me out! :) So, if you want more of this story, just give me a yell. If not, I'll just leave it as it is.

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 **Chapter One: The Smeet**

He needed supplies. And not just any old kind.

Flaxier 19 had those supplies, but the planet was a hot, dusty one, covered in a huge populace of many alien races from all across the galaxies. Some races were of the peaceful and curious kind that came to trade and buy, but most that were attracted to Flaxier 19 were aggressive in spirit, and did all they could to rip out a profit and sell illegal goods banned by every other sector.

If you wanted rare minerals monitored by the sectors, you went to Flaxier 19. If you wanted godly weapons capable of wiping out whole solar systems, you went to F.19. And if you decided the hypnotic drugs were just too tame, you went to F.19 for the killer elixir.

As a rule, Dib tried to avoid going anywhere near that particular planet. As the only intergalactic human space traveller, he got some really nasty looks, and plenty of threats to remember later on his cold, darkly journeys.

But it wasn't just the aristocracy he was so wary of. It was the dust ball of heat, and the chaotic, disorderly spread of stalls that taught a few hard lessons about disorientation. That and the climate.

Dib was more inclined to browse the sometimes whacky technology and obtuse wonders in cleaner cities, cleaner planets but F.19 had it all. And every alien breed, no matter how distant, how unusual or rare, turned up in their intergalactic ships of sometimes monstrous sizes: sometimes in uniforms, sometimes wearing nothing at all. And Dib often got so distracted by their bizarre contours of face and body that he very often spent hours trying to relocate the way back to his docked ship.

And that was the beauty of space travel.

He was free to go wherever he pleased, to whatever quadrant he fancied.

And yes, it had taken many years of his life to get as far as he had.

It had all begun with his father: Professor Membrane. Ever the scientist to keep pushing logics and physics, he had designed the first interstellar spaceship capable to travelling all the way to Pluto and back without refuelling. It was fully sustainable and fast, but it could only house one pilot, and the product was a frivolous expense, as told by the local press. And so, it was dropped.

But Dib never let it fall from his mind as it did to his father, and all the other scientists. He took it upon himself to work on the concept and improve it. For, in theory, it worked beautifully. It was just held back by finance and legislation. But if he designed it with his own goals purely in mind, he was hoping to take it much, much further than dusty old Pluto.

Every year, technology got that little bit better, and faster, amalgamating into something that overshadowed the latest invention last year, and the one before and the one before that. Burrowing NASA's technology when his became exhausted, he swapped bits out, changed up on the engine, and made the ship bigger and longer each time he had to make a major adjustment. He was improving it all the time, and each new development forced an old part out. It was an almighty project that seemed to have no end, and it was costing him not just thousands of dollars, but millions.

Being rich sure had its advantages, but as he slowly began to run out of money, he slowly grew to realize that his adventure as the first solo man in space might not be so real after all. Then his father invented 'core' technology: a tiny circular orb that could provide any machine with refined, synthesized energy that could well last years. This later became Dib's only access to light-speed travel.

Dib had used the technology, and he remodelled the ship around it for the last time.

Now he was enjoying unadulterated space travel when no one else could.

That had been seven years ago since his first voyage into the known solar system. The first few times he went out, he always did a U-turn straight back to Earth. But as he grew bolder, and continued to improve his ship he went out further and further each time. And then one day he simply carried on: past Pluto, and out of Sol's solar system into the wastes beyond.

He had only wished he could have done it all sooner.

Because once you got past the dangerous asteroid belts and Haley's dwarf with an orbit about as strong as a hurricane sucking you in, and once you got through the millions of miles of nothing, encountering only the stray meteors, dead planets and tiny, cold moons, you started picking up on transmissions. Alien transmissions. Some were coded, some were even garbled, but all of them belonged to a cryptic language he was desperate to unlock so that he could learn and study it.

Acquiring intergalactic space travel had not been a walk in the park. But one he had got his foot in the door, once he had begun his early runs, he finally encountered alien life, and not just alien life, but their citadels on distant worlds, and he was able to trade in their spectacular markets.

He had the fortune of buying superior technology for his ship that mankind would be eons behind in discovering (if they would ever discover it at all), and this helped him go even further, even faster, until massive distant voyages into deep space took mere weeks to achieve than the years he had been inundated with. His technology and equipment were now rivalling the very aliens who had long ago conquered interstellar travel when mankind were still dithering apes: hunting prey with sticks while these creatures poked their way through different solar systems to learn as much as they could about the universe.

And that was how Dib came to be a space traveller. The only human to have ever reached this far.

He had been to Luxot, Scallor, Umphir and Junka. Each planet or star system he visited, he recorded on his astrological star guide in the databanks of his ship's memory, and it provided him with the data with the simple push of a button. Some astrological maps he bought from various alien merchants, to further plot his course to keep from getting lost. For space was much like Earth's oceans, but a hundred times more deadly, and a million times more vast and empty.

But it was not without its complications.

Being a human instantly set him apart from every other species he met. Most aliens viewed him with disdain or even intolerance, as if he was no better than a monkey who had learned to fly. He supposed it would have been no different to mankind if a rat were to suddenly land amongst the busy streets of London in a spaceship.

And because he could not speak or even begin to understand their millions of different lingos and layers of intricate dialect he knew he was at a major disadvantage. For how could he buy or trade anything if they could not understand him and vice versa? So, Dib invented a headset with a little microphone with a computer chip inside that picked up on any language and translated it back into Dib's ear. And when Dib spoke into the microphone, depending on what language he had set it on, he was very soon conversing with the aliens as smoothly as a native.

And because he was the only human, (for he was quite the eye-sore in the big market crowds) he quickly became quite well known, and he even struck up a few uneasy friendships with those he traded frequently with. Rath was one such alien. He was an albino Irken with deep-set red eyes and a devious smile. Beaten and abused by his captors in the past, he had to walk with a staff, but he was most kind with Dib, and his manner seemed quite genuine. It was Rath who taught him to learn all he could, and that it was wise to teach himself about the various alien Federations and alliances: knowing which creatures were bad, which were insane, and which were friendly.

Now here Dib was again on Flaxier 19, walking the dusty streets he had walked some months prior in the pursuit of star ship fuel that was too costly to buy anywhere else. Even if you were rich here, it paid to be tight and conscientious of your spending, because you never quite knew if and when something was going to set you back. If you got hit by an asteroid during your flight, whoops, there's some big fucking damage right there. A new hull did not come cheap.

Ransacked by space pirates? Had some of your best goods stolen? Well, security was damn expensive, and you got no insurance or compensation out here, in space. Because no one owned that which was space.

And longer journeys meant more fuel. If you didn't have enough fuel, and your ship would peter out unexpectedly, stranded in space somewhere, like a boat in the middle of an endless expanse of ocean, you were fucked. Many lost their lives not to criminal aliens, pirates or disease, but to the nature of space itself.

As always, the streets were jam-packed with traders, sellers and consumers. It almost felt like Dib was in the middle of the Serengeti desert, breathing in grit through his mouth and being blinding by the infrequent dust storms that wreathed through the clogged streets in a sorrel haze.

He always came prepared too. Wearing his headset to convey whatever message he wanted, and able to understand them to avoid being ripped off or insulted behind his back (aliens did that a lot, he found) he carried an alien pistol for self-defence. Being the only human around always made him feel vulnerable. The other aliens were bigger, meaner and stronger. Dib felt like a scrawny chicken among scaly giants all too often.

"Okay, need fuel. Remember, it's the A-17 kind! Liquid purple, not blue!" He said to himself as he eased his way through the mob. He had rather hoped never to come here again. But Rath never sold spaceship fuel. He was allergic to it, apparently. And even if he did happen to sell it, as it was a rare, hard to refine product, the price was way too steep. Better to come here and brave the crowds just for an hour to locate and stock pile the stuff. Then he could be on his merry way again, back to Earth after a long, long trip through the stars that had almost lasted two full years.

He was beginning to forget what humans looked like.

Dib was meandering through, hearing the jibber jabber of customers, looking for the familiar tanks of his A-17 fuel at each stall he came across when he heard a distant hollering above the curtain of dusty wind and the noise of the alien traffic.

"Smeets! Get your smeets here!"

 _What the hell is a smeet?_

He turned in the direction of the noise, curious to go and see what it was. He had seen all sorts of mystical and wondrous things, and Dib was naturally curious, perhaps too curious for his own good. And he found it hard to resist seeing something new. He loved to take notes of all he had seen, and everything newly experienced was quickly documented for later reading. He took pictures of new discoveries with his snap-camera if he could, even if doing so earned him laughter from the spectators. Sometimes he bought the oddly weird things. He had bought weird food once, only to find it too beautiful to eat. It had been a type of winged bat with alluring long feathers, made entirely out of a jelly-like serum. He had kept it in his refrigerator unit so that he could open the lid and peer at it whenever he chose to.

Sometimes aliens sold the latest technologic tablets like humans sold phones, or a vendor would be selling animals from different planets.

There seemed to be no end to the wonder of what Dib might find. If something was particularly interesting, so long as it didn't cost the Earth, he would buy it. In his ship was a growing collection of memorabilia he had bought and kept over the years.

"Smeets! Get 'em while they're fresh! Cook 'em, train 'em, put 'em to good use. Haven't been indoctrinated, but they are loyal, and they'll do all your chores without complaint."

The voice was thickly-set, and harsh. The accent was strongly Halycon. And Halycons weren't the nicest of creatures.

Dib was correct in his assumptions. He approached the stall where the seller was shouting out: 'Smeets for sale' and he was indeed a big, fat, hairy Halycon. They looked a lot like giant blue pigs, with curved teeth that jutted out their lips, but they had long, thick tails and bristly hands instead of hooves. And they were always naked and smelly.

But his attention quickly slipped from the smelly Halycon when his eyes dipped down towards the glass hutch the seller was standing behind. Inside it were tiny little green aliens, all crawling around. He had never seen such adorable little creatures.

 _So, these are smeets?_ He thought.

Next to the glass cage, on a humble wooden board, were words stencilled in hard, cruel black. A visor fell in front of Dib's left glass lens so that he could translate it into English via the visor:

' _Will not be held responsible for any loss of limb: dysfunctionality or diseases present.'_

' _NO REFUNDS.'_

Of the 'smeets' there were seven. Six of them, green from head to toe and not wearing a single scrap of clothing, save for the metal oval things on their backs, were all huddled on the straw that lined the glass cage. There were few toys that looked ancient and dirty, but the smeets were scrabbling for them, and hooting to each other in their native tongue. But the seventh smeet sat separately from the others, seemingly by its own accord, or it had been physically ousted from the group. It sat huddled in the furthest corner, not taking part in anything. It sat with its back to Dib, its arms around its knees as it wept. It was thinner than the others, and its green shade of skin looked sickly in comparison to the other six.

They looked incredibly bug-like, and looked a lot like old Rath, with the twin antennas, the big, bulbous eyes and the big heads. Dib could only gather that they must be Irken babies. And he had never seen Irken babies before.

The seller noticed him looking and didn't say anything for a beat as Dib studied them. A few customers glossed over them with dull interest before moving on again to the next stall.

Dib looked to the seller, and he immediately saw the hostility in the halycon's eyes. He was reminded once again that he was a human far, far from home.

"What... what are these?" Dib asked. He hoped his sleek appearance of black high-tech coat, gear and headpiece and the exposed gun on his hip would passively remind the seller that yes, he had money, and that he would not be pushed around like a pup. It seemed to work. The Halycon looked him idly up and down, as if sensing his worth before formulating a stoic reply.

"Irken smeets. But all six are damaged or defective in some way."

"Smeets?" He asked again. He hated his ignorance in the alien world sometimes. He was pretty good at remembering all that he had learnt so he didn't trip on the same mistakes, but every so often something new came up, re-establishing his lack of knowledge.

"Irken babies." The seller said impatiently.

"Where have they come from?"

"Irk. Stolen they are." Said the seller robustly without fear of punishment. "Would have been destroyed anyhow, considering they are worthless, even to other Irkens. Irkens only want the best of the best for their stinkin' military. These ones I take, and sell. For slave labour, or food mostly. Some aliens buy smeets as presents for their juveniles until they mature. They are useless for anything else. But they can be quite... uh... cute."

"How much are they?" Dib pressed. His eyes kept trailing down to the littlest one crying in the corner. It sounded like it had a sniffly cold. The other smeets weren't paying it one bit of attention. They were too busy fighting over a squidgy toy that was ready to fall apart.

"16,000 raluni. Each." Said the seller with a smidge of complacence. He did not believe Dib had the money.

"16,000?"

That was steep. Real steep. Back at home, that was the equivalent of $2000 US dollars.

For an Irken baby that was apparently 'useless!'

But Flaxier 19 was well known for its extortionate prices. Because you could not get these things anywhere else in the 9 galaxies. And these smeets were stolen, which had been no doubt a risk. Even so, Dib watched a couple of adult Irkens saunter on by (these creatures ALWAYS gave Dib funny looks) but they did not seem to care AT ALL that their babies were on sale.

Dib opened up his very-human wallet and flicked through his electric blue notes.

 _What are you doing?_ He thought to himself. _You're not buying one, are you?_

Of course he wasn't going to buy one. He wasn't _that_ daft. The last thing he needed on his plate was a baby: an alien baby no less. He had too many of his own problems to keep on top of and his next stop was home: Earth.

Even so, he was moved by their pathetic plight.

The Halycon was selling these precious little things as commodities, and not living creatures, like how humans viewed animals back on Earth.

The irony of it was, was that Dib had enough for one, as he had always been responsible with his money. But, as he was still deciding, the Halycon nodded over at the crying smeet huddled in the corner. "That runt, half price. It's a defective smeet, _and_ a mute. Never speaks. You can have it for 8000 raluni."

It didn't matter how far the seller pushed down the price to sweeten the deal, to Dib he was still being asked too much.

Caring for a baby was a huge responsibility, and he had been enjoying his freedom as a singular explorer in his own ship. Doing what he wanted, going where he wanted, with no strings attached. The only things that governed his exploring was his fuel consumption levels, the durability of the ship, and the distance for the next adventure. Besides, he had not come here to buy smeets. He had come here for fuel!

"No, thank you." Dib snapped the wallet shut and quickly stuffed it back into his pocket so that it was safe from pickpockets.

The Halycon merely shrugged at him before resuming his hollering to potential clients: "Smeets! Get your smeets here!"

Dib turned away from the stall, and threaded his way back through the ever-moving tide of travellers and merchants and clients. But as soon as he had turned away, a funny feeling began to start in his mid-section. It was an empty feeling, a feeling of growing disappointment.

Dib went back to his search for the fuel. He found it amongst old machine parts, and paid a handsome price using electronic credits. A kindly merchant came out, whisked the heavy fuel on a levitating trolley, and was tasked of taking it back to his ship: Blue Thunder, which was docked with all the other ships.

Now that that was done, Dib intended to head back. But his mind ultimately betrayed him when he kept thinking back to the little lonesome smeet that had fetched itself against the far side of the glass wall, away from the others: snuggled into a little shivery ball. It had been squeakily crying, and crying.

 _How could I so heartlessly walk away from that?_

 _But... but I can't..._

 _It's a creature that needs a lot of care. And I don't have the time._

 _Maybe I could buy it? And... I dunno? Set it free somewhere else?_

He tried not to think of the miserable future it would surely have, if he never returned to buy it.

As much as he endeavoured to keep himself distracted and to sway his mind from the babies, his mind would fixate on the smeets periodically.

He couldn't take it.

Dib stopped dead, and in moments he turned himself back round and surreally watched himself march back through old territory he had already been down, and he watched more than felt himself approach the stall with the smeets as if he was just a ghostly spectator in his own body.

What his mind was really saying was: _What the fuck are you doing? You've gone bananas!_

He ignored the highly strung voice in his head and produced the electric blue notes from his leather wallet. It was the last of his physical supply of cash, everything else was credits. Illegal sellers liked real currency, and not digital transactions as real money could not be traced or recorded.

Dib's eyes looked again at the sad, sorry collection of smeets. The healthier ones were still tackling each other for toys, but the seller had sprinkled food into their glass prison like they were fish being fed flakes. Some of these smeets picked these 'flakes' up and chewed on them, but the little runt in the corner had no interest.

All of them were awaiting their miserable, individual ends.

Dib had kinda hoped someone would come in and buy the runt during the time he had been gone, but that was clearly not the case.

"I'll take one." Dib said to the Halycon who was standing, slouched on one leg.

The Halycon gave Dib a surprised look that was almost condescending as if he truly disbelieved that the human didn't have the money. Then, without a word, the seller opened out his hand and went to snare one of the healthier smeets who were huddled around a mangled old dishrag of a doll.

"No!" Dib said, pointing at the one in the corner through the glass, "I want that one."

"That one?" The seller raised a piggish brow, one yellowed tooth jutting from his greasy lips. "Very well then, but no refunds! If something happens to it, I don't want to know!"

The other smeets began talking to themselves in a language he wasn't too enthusiastic to translate. One of them waved at Dib. He gingerly waved back. He felt sorry for all of them. Now he knew what an Animal Rights Activist felt like on Earth. As much as you wanted to try, you could never save all life in the world. It was better just to cope with what you could deal with.

"So, uh, what does it need?" He asked.

The seller hooked the runt with his claw-like hands and at once the crying smeet tried to scrabble away, bright blue tears rimming the bottom of its fuchsia eyes. But the seller had no trouble scooping it up, one-handed, and dumping it in a metal carrier, similar to what people put their pets into. The top of the secure metal carrier was filled with little breathing holes.

"Very little." The seller replied unhelpfully as he closed the little carrier hatch and turned the latch to lock it in.

"Don't they need diapers or something?"

"No, they're usually good in that department. Except the one you just bought. That one still wets itself."

The seller did not elaborate, or give Dib any further knowledge on the Irken smeet and what was normal for its young age.

While the Halycon stood holding the metal pet carrier, Dib looked down at his blue, shiny notes, hesitating at the most crucial step in the transaction.

 _What am I doing?_

 _This is the most frivolous thing I've ever done. I'm practical, I plan. I don't do impulsive things like this!_

Despite his mind wailing with regret, he passed over the money. The Halycon expected the glossy notes suspiciously, as if still doubting a human could carry that amount of _real_ money. Then, decided, he stuffed the money into his leather satchel and handed over the metal carrier. He could feel the weight of the little smeet inside. It weighed about as much as a kitten.

"Don't I get a starting kit or something?" Dib asked, dully bemused when the seller gave him nothing else for the care of the creature.

"What is this?" Snorted the seller. "20 questions? Does this look like a nursery to you? I'm a Nox merchant, and I happen to be selling Irken leftovers. Tomorrow I might be selling star crabs, seeds or table legs!" Dib just stared at him adamantly, despite his shorter stature in comparison to the Halycon. "Fine!" The seller moaned. "Just feed it leftovers until it can fend for itself."

"What about milk? Babies need milk, don't they?"

"Irkens don't lactate." The Halycon said bitterly.

"Then how do they feed them?"

"I don't know! Go and ask an Irken!" And he spat on the ground when he said this. It was possible the Nox merchant _did_ know, but preferred not to say.

"Fine, fine. Just tell me, is it a boy or a girl?"

"That runt is a male. I can show you if..."

"No, no, it's okay. I believe you." Dib said, shaking his hand at the merchant. "And how old is the smeet?"

"Five days old, give or take. The others are a week older, but I've known day old cretins to be bigger than that runt you have there."

 _Five days old? Is that all?_

Dib's heart broke that such a dear little thing had been propelled from wherever it was born, to here, in a dry, dirty patch on Flaxier 19, and to be treated like common vermin.

There was nothing more to say, even though Dib wanted to stay a little longer and ask the seller about all there was to know about smeets and how to care for them. Even a book or a download for his alien tablet would have helped. But the seller was done with the questions, by the looks of it. He had his fat, hairy arms folded, and his eyes were glaring coldly at him from the top of his wrinkly snout.

"Thank you." Dib said, and he turned and walked away from the stall, feeling oddly happy that he had actively stepped in and rescued something.

 _That seller hasn't even given me clothes or a stitch of cloth for a blanket for this poor mite. What a bastard._

And he was inundated with what he had gone and done. He was a thinker: a planner. Now he had thrown all his own established rules aside to buy a baby he knew nothing about. He had no idea how big the smeet would grow, and what that metal thing was on its back. How long did they even live for?

Rath was the only Irken he knew well enough to compare the smeet with, and even then Rath told him very little on Irkens in general. To be honest, Dib hadn't really asked that many questions, because he hadn't wanted to be rude, and Rath was clearly reluctant to share.

Now he actually had a reason.

Dib paused in the crowd and lifted the carrier up to try and have a peek inside. He could hear the smeet sniffing and weeping within the darkness of the carrier, but the holes were too small to see inside.

"Congratulations, Dib, old buddy, old pal." He said aloud to himself as rivers of customers passed him on either side. "What have you gone and done this time?"

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 **Dib07:** That's it! Hope you enjoyed. It's very different and refreshing for me in a new, exciting way. I think I'll just keep this first chapter as a one-shot. Please let me know, and if you enjoyed it. I hope it wasn't too... bizarre. I suppose it is from my usual story arcs.


	2. Getting to know you

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be going home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet slowly becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against those who want all defectives dead.

 **Warnings:**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. Alternative Universe.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

 **The story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Sin Hogar/tenebrio. The picture is owned by her. Please do not use/burrow without her or my permission. Thanks for reading! ^^**

P.S I love you **Sin Hogar!** I can't express how much I ADORE this picture! 

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**AN:**

Okay, yeah, how could I ignore 13 reviews? Haha! 13 reviews all at once, for a little oneshot! What have I done? I guess that means I need to put up another chapter! Because yeah, I wasn't expecting such positive responses to this. I thought the story's opening was a bit... I dunno... odd? We're used to the characters of the show. And I've never bothered with au's before, so. So, um, I just HAD to write the first chapter before I forgot the dream, and then I privately wrote a lot more. Because smeet Zim.

Yeah.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to **Sin Hogar.** She gave this story a little more life than mere words can achieve. Out of the blue she did the cover art for this story. It's so sweet. Such a charming gift. I LOVE it more than words can truly express.

Yeah. ^^

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 **RhiannonsaurusRex**

Omg he is such a tiny, squeaking bundle of joy for sure! And Dib, Dib is such a badass! He is really stepping out, and is such an independent lad with goals that far exceed himself. With his own ship! Oh there is a lot for me to share in this little story, with those little intricate details of his life aboard the ship, etc with all that onboard management! I LOVE writing sci-fi, and I did do an original novel of it once, but I never finished it. So I've had practise. I guess I just never bothered since, so it was exciting to get a taste of it again in a setting I'd never imagine I'd write. Yeah, I think it was a lot like Star Wars! Those movies really nailed the atmosphere of distant worlds that can be rich or poor. Oh gosh I know right, I would have flipped as well if I'd seen a merchant selling babies. I think you might get more angry the more you read this latest chapter, but yeah I might have personally unleashed the beast on that merchant, or ANYONE selling such cuties with such indifference to their welfare. Yes, animal cruelty and child slavery is rampant and sadly that chapter touching on the madness of our world was very real and felt a little too close to home. At least Zim's tragic beginnings have some hope, and he may find happiness yet. My stories do tend to be on the cold, realistic side of life.

''I've never read or heard of Dib being the one to raise Zim as his own in any fanfic. Kept as a pet yes or there was one where an adult Dib was the councilor at Skool and helped Zim with his life but never raised as a child.''

Really? REALLY? Oooh. That daunts me, that I may be the first. I kinda hope so, and I also feel a little isolated in this unique idea! I hope I can make it work! I've never read anything like this myself, or read anything on parental experiences through fanfiction, so it's a fresh, new thing for me too. So yes, I am new at this, and excited at being new at it. I've never had any children myself, so, um, if it's okay, I'D LOVE some advice! I am going in a little blind, especially with a weak baby being so smart! But thank you, so, so much, and I mean this with all my heart. You've given me such priceless, gorgeous reviews that I am addicted to in so many ways! I love reading what you write, and I often find myself re-reading them and getting excited and happy all over again!

 **Guest**

Hi Guest! Thanks for stopping by and spending the time to say you enjoyed it, and that you were after a bit more! ^^ Here you are! Hope you like it as much as you did the first chapter!

 **Sanmari**

Oh no, don't worry, it's definitely NOT going to be ZADR! That would be so weird if it was! XD Gosh no! XD Putting Dib in such an independent lifestyle I think was a good move to try. Yeah, it does totally remove them from their places on the chessboard, hence my reluctance to continue this any further from the oneshot I had intended, and the dream I had didn't continue from the first chapter, BUT I accidently wrote 4 more chapters. XD And **Sin Hogar** has offered to do some commissions, so, I decided to push out some more chapters onto the table as an excited thank you for the support of everyone here! ^^ Five day old smeets are just so... lovable and I HAD to write more! Plus yeah, this AU was just too fun to leave alone!

 **Boxy**

I knooow! Smeet Zim's had a bit of a rough start. Was it because you were eager to read more, hence your reluctance to read that first chapter? ^^

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Getting to know you**

Strangely he wanted to take it out of the carrier case and carry it around with him in his arms. It was an oddly maternal feeling he suddenly had that rose up within him, and he wasn't sure he liked this new feeling. For the smeet wasn't his, even though he had gone and done something stupid and bought it. He had no documents to confirm his new authenticity as owner, and the smeet was a different species. The baby might be likened to the uneasy start of having a new pet, like a new gerbil or hamster, and bite Dib out of fear. And yes, the novelty was there, of owning something new, something... different. But there was a lot of guilt with this sudden purchase and he was tempted to go back and hand it over to the stubborn Halycon.

But the market was just too damn loud and busy to carry around something that was only a few days old. He didn't want to get bumped into whilst holding the smeet in his arms. It would only frighten it. And the seller had warned him of the Irken 'wetting itself,' and Dib wanted to remain dry.

So yeah, it was staying in the carrier until he got it back to his ship.

In the meantime, he did do some extra shopping; having to buy supplies he never would have thought he'd ever be buying.

Using his digital credits, he spent it on blankets in a range of cute colours such as maple, pink, cherry and purple, and Irken baby formula. Lots of the stuff. They came in sterilized, laminated packs that were heavy to carry, and felt thick with liquid that was too dense and compact to be milk. This ignorance of what smeets actually needed reminded Dib once more that he had no idea what he was doing, and that he had done a stupid thing in buying the smeet. It was like going down to Africa for a holiday and coming back to America with a baby cheetah. It was dumb. It was stupid. He often laughed at the thought of people bringing home dangerous and exotic beasts to their humble apartments. Now he realized how easily he had been suckered into it.

He went to another store managed by Vortians, and bought toys, clothing of various sizes, and lots of diapers.

During his shopping spree, the smeet now very quiet and still within the carrier, a greater guilt began to settle on Dib's heart.

 _What am I going to do with it? My home is Earth! This Irken baby can't possibly come with me!_

Then, a quick turnabout thought emerged, and with it, a feeling of sanity.

 _That's okay. I'll give the baby to someone who can actually take care of it. Or I can take it back to where it came from. Anything's better than being in that glass stall._

With this in mind, he continued buying his supplies with less aggravation. And, for the first time, he took an active interest in the few renegade Irkens that passed him in the crowds. Some were taller than others, and some were short and squat. Some were thin and tough-looking. But every single one held itself in a menacing way. And all of them sported deeply tanned green skin and they had bulbous eyes that came in various shades of red, or blue, or even purple. But they wore hardened, cold expressions and their gaze was terribly piercing. Their eyes were quick to humble whoever had the misfortune to look their way.

Dib was afraid to look at one for too long, in case he got noticed by them. And they were wearing military clothing, not the haggard street rags or flamboyant robes that other aliens wore. It made these Irkens look smart and helped enhance their menacing image.

At least they didn't seem to grow particularly big. The tallest one he saw was almost the same height as him, but only almost.

Because he had bought so much, a helpful Vortian vendor helped him cart it back to his docked ship on a levitating trolley.

Dib kept looking at the things he had bought, inundated with how much baby stuff he had.

As he walked back to the ship with the smiling vendor, he could hear the sickly smeet sneezing inside the carrier.

The ship: _Blue Thunder_ , was easy to pinpoint amongst the massive rows of others. Most aliens loved the gaudiest of colours, and as a result, had their ships painted stark pink, or purple or red or violet. Dib's was plain cobalt, and its balanced human design set it apart from the eccentric design of the others. For Dib liked straight lines and the box-like practicality of his vessel even if it looked boring. The other ships were borderline nightmares with their fancy curves that served little purpose, and they had struts and fins and cross-pieces that served as cosmetic accessories that only weighed down the ship.

Sure, the alien pilots were imaginative, but it turned into scary absurdity when you started cobbling together ships with flamboyant prettiness.

By touching a device on his wrist that looked a lot like a touch-screen watch, the rear cargo door opened.

The vendor attentively helped stow the supplies inside using the levitating trolley, and once everything was stacked neatly, Dib thanked the Vortain and gave him a tip. When he asked the Vortian if he knew anything on Irken babies, the vendor's purple skin seemed to grow pale, and he fumbled with apologies when he said he knew nothing about them, and said that he was better off not knowing.

Dib began to suspect that Irkens weren't very well liked, for whatever reason.

After the vendor had gone, Dib went into the cargo bay and closed up the doors and sealed the airlocks so that the hull was secure.

As it was, _Blue Thunder_ was very spacious and large, despite its lone occupant. It was quite clean, and its tunnels were cool and airy from the ventilation.

Dib went into his personal bed quarters, aft of the bridge with a bag of supplies in one hand, and the carrier in the other.

Nervously, he set the metal carrier down on his bedroom floor. He put the bag of supplies on the bed, and then went and hit a button on the wall. The door slid shut to ensure that the smeet didn't do a runner and get lost in the ship.

Once that protocol was in place, Dib nervously undid the little latch and swung the hatch outward. He tensed, kneeling by the side of the carrier, his hands safely in his lap. He had no idea what to say, if he should say anything to it. He was rather useless at these things. But he gathered smeets were pretty smart, if they were anything like their adult counterparts. But for all he knew, he had just bought one with brain damage.

When nothing happened, he was forced to take the initiative.

"Come on out, little guy." He tried, wondering if the alien baby could even understand him. "Don't be afraid. Nothing's going to harm you."

He supposed that his quiet, serene bedroom was a big change from the clutter, noise and hustle of the market.

But the smeet didn't come out.

Having little alternative, Dib picked up the carrier and titled it down, its open hatch facing the carpet. In moments the smeet came tumbling out, and plopped onto the floor with a squeak.

Dib settled the carrier behind him, and sat, watching the tiny thing blink with its large, diaphanous eyes that reflected all the lights and shades of the room. Then it turned slightly to look up at Dib. The human visibly saw a shiver oscillate down the smeet's body. Then it curled up where it sat, and started to cry.

"No! Don't cry!" Dib told it. He was no fan of tears, and liked babies crying even less, usually because it evoked mixed feelings of loneliness and sadness in him too.

When he reached out to timidly pat it on the head, the smeet got up and waddled over to his bed, where it then tried to hide in the skirt of the duvet, as Dib's bed was on the floor. There was no gap to store things, and as such, no gap to hide in.

Dib sat where he was for a moment, tasting defeat.

 _Gotta change tactics._ He thought, deciding then and there that the smeet was smart, at least for babies. But it was also terribly frightened. For all it knew, Dib had kidnapped the smeet once again, to be sold elsewhere.

Dib opened the bag and brought out some of the toys he had bought. He sprinkled them here and there on the floor, and already the place was starting to look a tad like a nursery. He hoped he could attempt to engage with the smeet by tempting it with these toys. Then he unpacked all of the smeet's supplies, including the nappies. He really didn't want little accidents all over his ship.

He got out the Irken smeet formula too, and some biscuits for growing babies.

Then he made himself comfortable on the floor again, trying to appear as amicable as possible.

"You hungry? I have food."

The smeet remained huddled, using the hanging sheet of duvet as a wrap-around shroud. All this thing ever seemed to do was shiver and sneeze as if it was inflicted with some terrible cold virus.

"My name's Dib." He affably continued. "Do you have a name?"

He watched the shivery bundle nod its head through the sheet.

It was his first successful attempt at communication and Dib suddenly welled up with excitement.

The smeet had some knowledge after all, and it could understand him somehow, without any noticeable translator! Unless of course the token gesture of its head was purely accidental.

So, he tried again.

"Oh? What's your name?"

There was no reply.

Dib remembered suddenly that the seller had said that this smeet was a mute, which suggested that all Irken babies were quite capable of talking soon after birth.

Only, this one clearly did not speak, either because it couldn't, or wouldn't.

"You're safe here." Dib repeated, endorsing this very fact, because it was true. He wasn't like all those other aliens, and he wanted to prove it with every opportunity. Flaxier 19 was a horrid place to be, even if you were a customer, let alone as 'cattle' to be sold and distributed, so no wonder this little thing appeared so shell-shocked. "Please understand. I can take care of you until I can find your parents."

Again the smeet did not reply with vocal acknowledgement or a gesture.

It was miserably silent.

All it did do was sneeze, and sometimes it would deliver a very squeaky cough.

Dib was aware he was still parked on Flaxier 19, and that his ship wasn't going anywhere. If he wanted to make progress, it was better to engage the drives and set the ship to autopilot. Then he could deal with the smeet. Dib always felt safer when he was travelling through space. He felt like too much of a target, docked amongst so many aliens.

He himself was the real alien here, and he was always aware of this fact. Better to keep moving.

"I'll be right back." He told the baby. "I gotta warm up the engines and set a destination. I won't be long." He was good at talking to himself anyway, and he hoped the smeet would soon learn to trust the sound of his voice. Regardless, he had work to do.

Dib approached the door, and unlocked it with a button press. The partition slid open, and he stepped through into the cool, ventilated corridor.

To make sure the smeet would remain safe, he had the door slide shut again.

He plodded to the bridge with sudden spells of low energy. He was beginning to fret: thinking that the smeet was simply too young to be 'set free' as he had intended. He would have to find its parents, or a full-grown Irken who might be able to foster it. He could not set a course for Earth, which spiked him with impatience and growing disappointment. He had meant to go home after buying his fuel. Now he was bogged down with a baby. An alien baby. He could not possibly take it with him.

So where was the smeet's home planet?

At the bridge, he sat on his command chair and riffled through his astrological star system: his holographic map on his computer. The smeet's home planet was called Irk, and it took him almost twenty minutes of searching through the various planet systems before he actually found it. It was like looking for a single location without a postcode in a huge city using the search system: 'Google Earth.'

The planet was far, much further than he liked, and it was a big deviation from his usual route home.

"What a detour." He thought. But he had enough star ship fuel for both journeys.

 _You did this to yourself, Dib, old buddy._ Said that little rational voice somewhere inside his head.

"I sure have." He agreed.

Either way, he was profoundly happy he had taken it from its prison.

 _How could aliens pass off... other alien babies with such ease?_

 _Those adult Irkens didn't even care. They just walked on by, as if the smeets weren't even there._

This very question kept cycling through his head. He dreaded to think what might become of the other six.

Fostering these pangs of regret, rue and a little bit of grim satisfaction at what he had done, Dib took to the controls, and activated the ship's engines. Carefully he untethered its umbilicus from the complimentary dock and guided the ship upwards, slowly at first, to avoid low flying traffic, and to give others plenty of warning as he ascended. He kept his eyes alternatively glued to the radar for anyone swerving in too close, and at the readouts. Everything was in the green.

Once he was high enough, he engaged the throttle and cut into the planet's atmosphere with zeal. He was only too happy to leave this dusty ball behind him.

The ship sliced through the thin atmosphere with ease, only rocking now and again from the heat and turbulence, and Dib disposed of the translator headset around his head, glad to be rid of the weight. He wouldn't need it anymore, especially if the smeet was mute.

It was hard work, monitoring the systems, and in general: running the vessel all by himself, but he loved every minute of it.

Once _Blue Thunder_ had exited the atmosphere it slipped coolly and easily into the vacuum of space. Any and all traces of fire along its hull quickly died as there was no oxygen to feed it. The ship felt ten times lighter, and seemed to move along at a faster rate in space where there was no friction or wind to slow it down.

Once he had set a course for the planet Irk (it would take _Blue Thunder_ seven days to reach it), he left the bridge, glad to be rid of Flaxier 19 until the next time he needed cheaper star fuel. As it was, he had enough to keep him going for another year. That was the greatest thing about bulk buying.

Dib: the ever reluctant new owner of a defective smeet, returned to the bedroom, sliding the door open and then shut again. The smeet had surprisingly been petting the new toys with jittery disquiet until it heard the door slide to give Dib access. Then the smeet dived for the dresser. It opened the door with a tiny hand, and slipped inside.

Smiling patiently, Dib walked over and knelt by the open dresser so as not to frighten the smeet with his full height. Slowly he opened the dresser door all the way. The baby was pressing itself right back as far as it could go, knocking aside all of Dib's deodorants, soaps, gels and towels. It was looking at him as one might look into the mouth of a tiger.

Despite its hapless fear, Dib mused to himself at how damn cute it was. Its big, wondrous eyes mesmerized Dib the most. They weren't quite red, but they weren't quite pink either. They were a gossamer shimmer of both: an overlay of glassy fuchsia. And the little thing had two, great long black antennas that hung down to the metal dome thing on its back. Its head was large, and it had tiny feet and hands. Its chest was sexless, its skin a pale, yellowish green dappled in darker bruising. Though the smeet's eyes were wide in fear, its face almost retained that same neutrality the adult Irkens had possessed, only without the malice.

Now it was holding itself ridged as if it was on the precipice of a cliff edge with nowhere to go. Its breathing was fast and shallow. The smeet was so thin that Dib could clearly see the outline of its ribcage. And there was a nasty, swollen bruise on its jutting hip, and another on its neck.

Either the baby had acquired these 'marks' from sibling rivalry, or... or... the smeet had been...

 _No, no, Dib! Don't even think of it!_

 _No one could hurt a baby! No way! No! I won't think of it!_

If this smeet was indeed a mistake, it was the cutest mistake Dib had ever made. And he could not help but have a certain fondness for it, even if he knew that such bonding was dangerous if he later meant to give it away.

"It's okay. Really." He spoke in a gentle whisper. "I could never hurt you."

 _He's probably never seen a human before,_ Dib had to remind himself, _and this ship must smell different too._

The smeet was absolutely tiny. Dib reckoned that if he had been able to measure it with a ruler, he would have found that the baby was only 11 or so inches in height, 14 if you included the antennae, and the smeet's chest was only 2 and a half inches across.

He hoped the diapers and clothes would fit something so delicate and small.

Dib reached in to touch him, a little worried about being bitten. As it was, the smeet only had one baby tooth, and had he have known this, he would not have been concerned.

The smeet only tried to push itself deeper into the confines of the dresser, beginning to squeal in distress.

Braving himself for any kind of rebuttal, Dib grabbed him and held him in both hands, one on either side of its chest as he took him out of the dresser. He was scared at how to handle him. What the best way to hold something so tiny and delicate? He also expected some kind of aggressive act from the smeet, but the baby just hung there in his hold, all floppy and shivery. It stared up at him with those big eyes that were shimmering with fresh tears. Then it peed. A yellow liquid ran down between its legs and onto the carpet. And it was peeing from a little slit between its legs, like a female. Dib believed the seller had got its sex confused.

"Real swell." Dib sighed. But the baby was too damn cute for him to be angry. "A bed wetter, are you? Or is this normal for babies to just... go?" He remembered to keep smiling, wondering if showing his teeth to the baby was appropriate. In the animal kingdom, showing teeth only reinforced aggression.

And the little thing barely weighed much of anything. Dib did wonder if the mite had ever even been fed. "I bet you're hungry. Let's put a diaper on you before you do anymore damage, and then we'll see how you like Irken baby formula. God knows what's in it if it isn't milk."

The smeet just watched him anxiously, urine dripping down its left leg. It was almost as if the baby believed it would be severely punished, hence the frightened anticipation. And the smeet felt cold in his hands. He could feel the little thing trembling. All it had ever done since he had first laid eyes on it was shiver, either from stress or from the chill, or because it was sick.

 _The half-price smeet. No. The discount smeet._ Dib thought with a sad little smile.

The baby's skin was very soft, and a little spongy, and so, so smooth. It did not have a single follicle of hair on it, and it didn't have a belly button.

Aside from the string of bruising, noticeably over its ribs, pelvic bones and neck, for these stood out a little due to its overall thinness as it was pretty easy to get these bones knocked around, there seemed to be no other damage.

"Can... can you understand me?" He tried again, simply because trying anything was something.

Amazingly, the smeet nodded his head without hesitation.

Again, that same cluster of excitement stirred Dib forwards.

It was such a personal discovery.

"But you won't talk?"

Now the little creature slowly shook his head twice.

"Why not?"

The smeet's answer was silent.

Dib's thoughts were whirling through his head as fast as a rampant hurricane.

A perfectly intelligent baby refused to speak, and yet it seemed able of comprehending him without any visible translator.

 _If you could talk, what would you tell me? What awful things have you seen? What has frightened you so? Did that seller lay a hand on you? When was the last time you ate? Were you ever hugged, or loved, just once in your brief life?_

"I think I'll get you talking eventually." Dib added with hope. "Let's get you cleaned up, and fed. I think you'll like that!"

The smeet did what it had always done, and stared up at Dib with great remorse as if it was in the deadly grip of a bear. But Dib was gentle and laid the smeet on a towel before cleaning his undercarriage with baby wipes. Then he fitted the diaper on him. Or her. Or whatever gender it was.

The smeet surprisingly let him put the diaper on without fuss.

 _Will the wonders ever cease?_

The diaper was a bit big; despite Dib adjusting it to its tightest setting, but it was on, saving his room from anymore unwanted spillages.

Then he plopped the little smeet where it was most comfortable: on his king sized bed. The bed was blue, as was pretty much everything else, including the carpet. Next, Dib mopped up the little accident on the floor while the smeet sat up and watched him from the bed.

When that job was done, Dib asked it: "You hungry?"

Again, there no answer. The smeet just blinked, rubbing the tears from its eyes. One antenna dipped upwards. It seemed to be either listening, or expressing itself via its feelers rather than its face. Dib realized he knew too damn little on Irkens. He had seen Rath extensively use his antennae for whatever reason, and Dib had never called it into question.

So he tried another question as a final test to see how much this little baby understood him.

"Are you scared of me?"

A short, quick nod.

 _Of course he will be._ Dib had to pause to tell himself. _We've only just met._

"Do you... do you want to go back to the merchant I bought you from?"

A firm, hard shake of the head.

No.

 _I think I'm onto something._ Dib fathomed, feeling quite pleased. But it seemed that the smeet could only answer to 'yes' and 'no' questions.

He also believed that this little runt of the litter was really smart, despite its tender age and sickly appearance.

Dib tried to think of something important to ask it.

It didn't take long.

"Do you have a mom? Or a daddy Irken?"

The smeet shook its head after an iota of hesitation.

 _Why won't you speak, little one?_

 _How can you have no parents?_

He sat on the bed, closer to the smeet. The baby didn't draw away or look to seek shelter but it did begin to cower again, as if expecting to be physically struck.

"You've got to have a name. How do I know what to call you?"

Astonishingly, the little smeet raised its left claw, palm up, and, with the other, it made a writing gesture as if it was holding a pen. It pretended to write on its palm.

Dib ended up feeling like the stupid one.

Quickly, he dashed to grab a pen and a sheet of paper from one of his drawers. Only, he found just a tablet and a stylus. He feared the material was too advanced for so tender a creature, no matter how smart he reckoned it could be. But when he glanced over at the baby, it was curling its claw towards itself, as if to say 'yes, come back, I can use that.'

With the tablet and stylus, he presented it to the Irken baby. Taking it politely off him, the smeet delicately held the stylus in its three-fingered hand and started writing. Dib was now the one staring with the googly eyes.

It wasn't every day a five-day old baby could use tablets and styluses.

Dib felt like pinching himself to see if he might 'wake up.'

The smeet took its time, flicking the stylus up and down with deft motions of its tiny wrist.

When Dib leaned in closer to have a look, he saw that it was in another language: probably from its own dialect. Incredibly, the smeet seemed to realize its mistake, and blotted out the symbols with its fingers, only to rewrite the letters in English.

In weedy, wonky writing, the word: 'ZIM' appeared on the screen of the tablet.

"Zim? That's your name?" Dib asked in breathless awe.

The smeet nodded. Both antennae bobbed as well, but no expression graced its face.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Zim. I'm Dib, as you may remember. It's uh... a cute name you have."

He figured the tablet was an excellent way to communicate, but it still begged the question: why wouldn't he speak?

The smeet turned back to the tablet again, and slowly, awkwardly tried to spell a new word. When Dib looked, he saw his own name written on the screen. Zim had the screen turned towards him, as if seeking the human's approval.

He had spelt his name correctly without any prior knowledge.

Dib smiled. "Very good!" He said. He wanted to ask this little mite about a million questions, and keep at it, not wanting to lose this new foothold of understanding, but Zim was still shivering and sneezing. The shakes had made their way down to the smeet's fingers and toes.

 _He must be weak and starving._

And he did look starved to death.

"Did that obnoxious trader ever feed you?" He gently asked.

Zim shook his head. He looked down at the tablet but didn't write anything. His eyes looked sad.

 _How can anyone starve a baby? I want to kill that Nox merchant!_

This led him to a question he had hoped never to ask. "Did... did that Halycon... beat you?"

Could someone so young and so tender even understand the nature of violence?

Zim did not look his way. But he curled up a little more, and his left eye filled up with a tear. He gave a very soft, very timid nod.

Dib closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to mentally deal with this.

He did not even _want_ to imagine someone beating a baby that was mere days old.

 _Dear Lord. The bruises._

To cheer things up a little, he changed the subject, because he wasn't sure if he could deal with the emotional ramifications just yet.

"I better dress you up into something warmer. I can't have you shivering like that."

To think that such a smart little baby had been left to starve in a glass box without food, water or comfort. And was henceforth beaten.

Dib actually felt sick with disgust at the seller.

The human went through the baby clothes, trying to pick out the best size that might fit a frame so preciously small. He selected a blue one with pink motifs of alien fruit that looked a lot like strawberries. He slipped these on, starting with getting the pants on the baby's little bony legs. He tucked the waist up once Zim was lying down, and then he sat him up again to slip his arms through the sleeve holes. The little clothes were silky soft and very warming. Already they were allaying the smeet's endless shivering cycles. And Dib talked all the while about anything, even stuff that was all nonsense. He wanted to instil trust in the smeet, and he figured being patient and talking to him was the best way to achieve it.

He was extra careful too, as he pulled on the clothing on whilst trying to avoid touching its sensitive little bruises that were almost black in colour.

When he was all dressed up, Dib picked him up and eased the smeet onto his lap. In his hand was a pink baby bottle filled with formula. Using his free arm, he wrapped it around the baby to keep him slightly reclined. Zim did not squeak at this, but he still looked very nervous. His eyes kept darting to his hands, as if he was expecting the human to start punching him with them.

"We'll try this baby formula first. I have no idea if it's supposed to be hot or cold. The instructions are all in Irken." And he had left his translator on the bridge. It was a poor move on his part, but he figured the formula could be used directly from the packet.

He edged the tip of the baby bottle towards Zim's mouth.

Strangely, the smeet refused, pushing against the nipple of the bottle with one tiny clawed hand.

Dib was not altogether happy. Was he distrusting the formula? Or was he mistrusting the one holding it? Or was it because he had not been fed in days? There was a re-feeding syndrome in human babies who hadn't been fed enough. It caused really painful stomach cramps, even with early re-feeding. He wasn't even sure _why_ he knew this. It was just one of those generalised things he had picked up in passing as he had grown up on Earth.

And the smeet was very bony.

"Come on little Zim! You need this! Just try it! Just a little! Pretty please?"

* * *

 **Dib07:** There ya go! Again! Yeah, funny place to end it, but this chapter got long, and I hated cutting it off, but I just carried on with that scene and well, yeah. Hope you enjoyed. I'd love it if you dropped in your thoughts and if there's still a need for more. This story's not too weird still, right? I dunno, man. I just write it. Eh.


	3. The Reluctant Father

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be going home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet slowly becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against those who want all defectives dead.

 **Warnings:**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. Alternative Universe.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

 **The story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Sin Hogar/tenebrio. The picture is owned by her. Please do not use/burrow without her or my permission. Thanks for reading! ^^**

* * *

 **AN:**

Wot WOT WOT! 30 reviews? WOT?

Okay, this story has broken my personal records. I guess smeet Zim is very much loved. And I do not blame you.

I freakin' love him too.

Can I just say how enthralled I am to be here, writing this for you all? With 30 reviews to glean upon, look at, and admire like they are golden bits of treasure?

Like I mentioned before, this had meant to be a quickie self-indulgent one-shot. Now it's turned into a little story. I might not have bothered continuing it either,

but you dear reviewers are way too convincing. ^^ You've also encouraged me, saying this story's not weird. Ha. Thank goodness!

I don't know why, but I have begun to entertain the idea of Zim becoming an adult, and Dib being his wise, enduring father. Man. Dreams can be so misleading. But cool. If it wasn't for dreams, this story would not have existed. Thank you, brain!

* * *

 **Guest**

No prob! Glad I could oblige you! Hope you like this one just as much! :)

 **Boxy**

Hey there Boxy! So glad you returned to send me your thoughts! Yes, baby smeets need food... need sustenance! That merchant was pretty darn awful. Treating smeets like slaves. The emotional damage he's left is not yet forgotten. Well, the thing is, Dib has led a pretty selfish life, doing the things he's wanted to do. He has quite a lesson to learn! But yes, he'd made a very suitable father if only he'd listen to his heart! I'm super happy this story has touched you! I hope you love this chapter too, Boxy!

 **Guest**

Oh gosh, me too! XD I'm on chapter 10 as of today due to my smeet Zim needs. I am too addicted. Uh!

 **RhiannonsaurusRex**

Dear, dear Rhian. I owe you so, so much. But before I say anything else, HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY! I tried so hard to get something up for you on your birthday, but my week caught up with me, and boy, have I been busy! I hope, pray you had a fantastic birthday and that you got treated on your special day as a queen and had lovely gifts, and that you had a well deserved break from those dear children! Birthdays are very special after all, for each one is a year triumphed. Another year wiser. I wish I'd got this story up sooner, but heh, I suppose late is better than never! And omg Dib sure has got a lot to learn. Bad enough that he's got a newborn, let alone an Irken newborn! Thank you so, so very much for all your amazing help. You went out of your way for me, and gave me something to think about, which I loved. I needed that help, I needed someone else's opinion to make this story as realistic as possible. So, I've given all you've said into great consideration, and I have developed and plotted all of chapter 6 with all that you have said in mind! Yes, you are going to have to wait to see chapter 6, but hopefully the wait will be worth it! And I shall henceforth dedicate that chapter to you! We're already on chapter 3 as it is, so hopefully the wait won't be too long! ;) Chapter titles and how to actually end this story is giving me a bit of a headache, but it is all part of the creative process!

Your nephew and him saying 'oh bugger' had me laughing! And your dear 5 year old niece swearing like that! Oh bless them! They do make such outstanding memories! I love how children's minds work. It's good, how the absorb information like sponges, but bad as well! You just can't win sometimes in this day and age! LUCKILY I can sidetrack this a little, as Zim is mute for now, but he will still pick up on everything, I am sure, and he has so much to learn. It can be a bit overwhelming for someone so tender and young.

Oh boy. About Zim and affection. I don't know how I did it, but I wrote this very chapter like, weeks ago, and I think I may have got it right judging by what you've said about Zim and his need for attention, while at the same time being distrustful, and a little cornered. I dunno. I write mad stuff sometimes. The best writers are crazy, right? XD So I hope I've got it right, and if not, then I hope I am almost there.

 _''But no matter how smart and capable a child is, if their only a few months old it still won't matter as even if they have knowledge built into them, they have no experience or content. Even if Zim can talk and knows things from his pack, he doesn't have any life experiences so everything will be a big game of finding out.''_

You know what? I am so, so glad and reassured you came up and said this. I MEAN it. I am so eternally grateful. I had such a bitter mental battle with myself, trying to determine how smart Zim should be, and in relation to that smartness, how he'd develop or already be developed in terms of his motor skills and experience, and I was deviating between what you've just said, and unrealistic out of the blue smartness. I kept cantering between the two, and I've had a few people already say that Zim should be smart enough to do this, and that, and I was a bit crestfallen, thinking I had overthought things and screwed it up. BUT, BUT you came and smacked those indecisive demons clean away. You are right. Reading about piloting a boat say, is all very good, but actually doing it without guidance is a whole different experience. His PAK has information, like you said, but he has no idea how he fits into the world, what's expected of him, or how things work. The smarter a creature is, the longer it takes for them to learn all there is to know. Animals with bigger brains tend to be nurtured with their parents for longer, humans being the longest. So thank you for reassuring me. Because of what you said, I was more sure of what I was doing. And oh yes, Dib will be tested! ;) The poor man!

I really hope your sister's broken foot is on the mend. That must have hurt, badly. How did she do it, if I don't mind asking? Breaking an ankle is a very easy thing to do. I horse ride, and having an accident is all too easy. I rode into a tree, for example, came off my horse and winded myself from hitting the ground. Not fun, lol.

Yeah, having to look after and keep an eye on 4 children is not easy! Bless ya! I am thinking of you! And I LOVE your reviews so, so much. They get me through my working week. You are a ton of inspiration, and I am hatching a plot to that 'If Only I Could' aftershot you requested! I'm sorry I have not updated Saving Zim or Debacle R to reply to your requests so fully, and the only bad news is that you will have to wait until after the summer holidays when I get my normal schedule under way, lol! This 'Inside Zim' I am looking forward to as well, but I shall try and do the aftershot first as a really nice, satisfactory conclusion! I will dedicate it to you! ^^

Have a great, awesome day, that's hopefully relaxing! ^^

* * *

 **Chapter Three: The Reluctant Father**

He wasn't going to give up. If smeets were anything like human babies, then they needed to be fed and managed constantly. Dib only wished that he had some help. He supposed this was his punishment: buying something he knew next to nothing about, without even a basic book as a guide.

As he nudged the nip of the bottle at Zim's mouth, he glossed over the thought of what Rath would have done with the baby. The human always got the impression that Rath was diplomatic in all of his approaches, be it military, domestic matters or even casual affairs. He had never given Dib that same stinging look the other Irken customers had given him in passing back on Flaxier 19, but when you were in space, contacting someone from afar wasn't easy. You had to know what quadrant of space they were in to send the message, and it might take years for a reply, depending on the distance. For all he knew, Rath was at war with someone, (as was his duty of his Empire he kept saying blah de blah) and wasn't in the mood for taking messages concerning the dumb purchase of a smeet.

"If you're smart," Dib told the baby, "then you'll know this is good for you. If your tummy hurts, this will help. Honest."

The smeet blinked its deep oval eyes up at him, as if listening. Its intelligence was uncanny. Human toddlers could barely draw at three years old, and this little thing could write on a freakin' tablet.

"Go on. It's gotta taste good... I'm sure." He had no idea himself. For all he knew, the mysterious Irken's-don't-lactate formula probably tasted like mud for all he knew.

The smeet took a shy suck on the bottle, and these shy beginnings turned into a fierce eagerness as he took the formula with fast mouthfuls as he rediscovered his appetite. Both his little claws clutched on each side of the bottle as he slurped it down. He was out of practise in feeding, for already he was making a mess as excess liquid of a pulpy purplish kind drooled down his mouth. Using some tissues, Dib wiped away the drool with one free hand while the smeet took possession of the bottle. The dribbled formula reminded Dib of sap for some reason, and it was slightly sticky.

"Okay, that's enough." He grabbed hold of the bottle and drew it out of Zim's mouth. The smeet mewled for it, groping out with his little hands to retrieve it back from him. "You might not have eaten for days. It certainly looks like it and I don't want you vomiting it all back up again."

For he certainly didn't want to be covered in it.

Regardless if the smeet had understood him or not, he still mewled for the bottle, reaching out for it stubbornly as Dib held it high above his head.

"I'll give you some more in a minute! Let it go down first!" Dib insisted, hating the big, sad puppy eyes the smeet was now giving him. "You shouldn't drink it down so fast!"

It was like the smeet had been starved as well as dehydrated. A desert survivor would have gulped down a glass of water in exactly the same way.

He gathered the seller had fed the healthier ones in the glass cage, because they were more likely to survive and well, make money. It reminded Dib of the mother bird he had watched feeding the chicks in the nest in his back yard one early spring when he was about nine or ten years of age. There had been five in the nest, until one day, a tiny little chick had fallen out, and lay in the grass beneath the tree: dead. He had brought it to his father, trying not to cry, but crying anyway.

"The mommy bird left it there." He had said. "It won't get back up!"

His father had knelt down and patted him on the back in his usual, distant manner. "Now, now, son. It is merely the way of things. It is the strong who survive, and in order for that to happen, some creatures must perish."

Dib had gone on crying of course, and his father had taken him to the ice cream truck and given him a strawberry sundae. That stopped the tears, and he was able to get over it, more or less. Now, as an adult, he knew how nature worked, and also knew how damn cruel she could be.

Now he had the runt, and he wasn't about to let nature take the smeet away, because he was in control now. He supposed his father would not have approved, being a man of science and natural law. In order for change and evolution to happen, things had to perish. But a distant man putting himself on the edge of life had no room for any love in his heart, and that was what set him and his father apart. As much as Professor Membrane wanted Dib to be the Next Great Scientist, Dib did not possess the same cold apathy needed for the job.

And that was one of the many reasons why Dib built a ship, and left, to live the adventure, even if he might die doing it.

"Okay. Slowly now, and not all at once." He lowered the bottle back down again, watching the irresistibly cute way Zim tucked his claws around the sides of the bottle and sucked on the formula, even if he was still slurping it down a little too greedily.

Dib began repeating to himself: _I'm not getting attached, I'm not getting attached!_

 _NOT getting attached!_

The plan was to dump this thing where it belonged, soon, so that he could continue back home. If he got attached, the incoming separation would be harder to accept. Sure, he was cute, but babies invested a lot of work, a lot of time and dedication, and Dib had too many things to do! There were too many planets still to see and record, and alien races to meet and to form alliances before they decided otherwise. He had rescued Zim from the market, and that was great! He had done his good deed for the day, week, whatever, as he had done this little mite a HUGE favour, but now he needed to pass the baby on to someone who could better care for it, and someone who wouldn't beat it to death.

This led him to consider Rath as the new foster parent, and if not, then Dib would have to just keep heading to Irk.

He wondered what Irk would be like. Judging by the few Irkens he had seen in passing, not very promising.

 _He definitely is my cute little accident._

"That's it. No more for a few hours, I think." Dib plucked the bottle out of those little claws, and Zim's mouth hugged the nip of the bottle for about three more seconds until it was pulled out. He whinged in surprise, trying to catch the departing bottle with his claws, but Dib was bigger by far, and placed it out of reach on the little side cupboard by the bed. "I think that should keep you going. How about some shut eye? Would you like that?"

He cursed at himself when he saw the spilled purplish liquid down Zim's new clothing. It was now staining the blue, silky material.

 _I suck at being a temporary dad._ He thought. He had always been rather clueless when it came to human babies, let alone the alien variety. He had kind of left that up to the female race of his species to know about those sorts of things. But deep down, the real reason Dib didn't learn much about them was because he had never the time. He was always building, or inventing, sometimes spending whole days working on blueprints or new fuels for _Blue Thunder_ , and even before the days of his ship, he was always tinkering on something while the world moved and breathed around him. Babies were loud, babies were messy. And he had never really seen them as 'cute.'

And now he had this adorable thing sitting expectantly on his lap.

"Should have bought you a bib, huh?" He sighed, running a hand across his forehead to feel the sweat there. "Yup. Nice move Dib. I guess you wanna sleep now, huh?"

The smeet watched him attentively, as if he was waiting on every word that Dib said.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" The human petted Zim's head, careful of the curling antennae. It was hard to access what the smeet was sensing or feeling, since his facial expression had hardly changed when he had brought him to the ship. The only thing he had ever done to express raw feeling was when he had been crying, and curling in fear.

And then Dib quickly, angrily discovered his next mistake.

Zim had no crib to sleep in.

No nothing.

Dib whacked his hand against the side of his head. "Great going, Dib!" And Flaxier 19; that ugly dust ball of a planet, was about a thousand clicks behind them. "I haven't been thinking very far ahead, have I?"

Zim's left antennae ducked low, followed by the other. He began to fidget on Dib's lap.

"You wanna... uh... poop?" Dib tried, safely knowing that at least Zim was wearing a diaper. For he hadn't bought a potty either, and the toilet Dib used would sooner suck the smeet in, and jettison him out somewhere into space if the flush mechanism was turned on.

A shuddering spasm coursed through the smeet, and he grabbed his tummy. It was the first of many cramps as fluid filled a shrivelled sac of a spooch.

"See, I told you you'd get belly ache from drinking so fast!" Dib gently admonished. One of the other 'few' things he had picked up was that newborns needed to be burped. He really wanted to high-five himself for at least knowing some stuff like this, or the smeet would end up vomiting to rid himself of a painful tummy ache, and Dib _really_ didn't want that.

He picked the smeet up and rested him against his shoulder. He went to pat his back when his fingers met the solid spherical pod of metal that was there. He barely had had a chance to look at it, but he figured it kind of needed to be there. Every Irken he had ever seen had worn one, like it was important or something. So, trying not to touch it too much, he lightly thumped the smeet below the metal dome. Zim seemed staggered by this arrangement as if he had no idea what the human was trying to do to him, and the baby tensed, expecting some repercussive violence to follow.

 _I'm sure this will work. Gods, I have no idea!_

He went on gently thumping the smeet, not sure how much pressure he could afford to use, and what was most effective. Of all the times he had been on Earth, watching lazy programs on TV or just being bored, chilling on the sofa with some wine, he wished he had picked up a book on babies and read it from cover to cover! That at least would have given him more mental preparation.

Zim began to mewl in his ear, probably because the cramps were getting worse, or because he didn't like what Dib was in the process of doing.

Mute or not, Zim still managed to make a lot of distressful noises.

Then there was a squeaky burp, followed by another louder one.

A warm spark of relief grew and grew until it filled Dib right up. He had done something right.

He slipped Zim back down into his arms. Again the baby Irken was looking up at him with utmost intensity. Dib's huge reflection filled his beautiful fuchsia orbs.

"Feeling better now?" He asked.

Zim nodded, his antennae springing back up as if they had previously been flattened down by pain. Now the pressure had been released, and the smeet was looking actively interested in things again, especially Dib. The smeet's incredible watchfulness was kind of appealing, as if he was getting attached to Dib in some way.

Dib shook his head. "I'm not your mommy, or your daddy." He told him. "I'm just taking care of you until someone else comes along. I'm human, see? We're very different, you and I. I don't have... antennas or claws. I'm not even green! I know Rath's white and all because he's an albino... but..."

The smeet looked away for the first time, and sniffed from nostrils that sounded congested with phlegm. And the shivers cycled up again. Incredibly, both antennae sunk right down until they were almost hanging limply from the back of his head.

"Hey, it's okay!" He said, trying to cheer Zim up. He did not think his words would be so adversely affect the smeet. He was still not used to how clever this little thing was, and how he seemed to pick up and understand every word he had ever said: like the baby was some tiny computer processor or something. "We'll find someone to take care of you! Don't you worry! I'll make sure of it."

It was all he could promise.

But Zim's antennae did not spring back up as they had done earlier, and his beautiful silky eyes remained averted in a cloudy, downcast kind of way.

Because he couldn't leave him in dirty clothes freshly stained from so short a feed, Dib did the labour of changing him again into a pretty pink pair that were just as soft, if a little big, for the sleeves and pant legs flopped over Zim's claws and toes quite comically. Then, because Dib had nothing to lay him down in for sleep, he sat him on the bed and he started peering around the living quarters of the ship for a box, or a carry case or something to hold the little thing in. It was too much of a risk to have a five day old smeet sleep on his bed. Even if the bed happened to have no legs, and lay flat on the floor like how the Japanese liked to sleep, the smeet could still tumble out. And Dib had nowhere to sleep either. The last thing he wanted was to roll over and crush the baby flat if he slept beside him.

"Come on, come on!" He started flinging things around, and hunting through cupboards and dresser drawers. It was easy to believe he was in a messy apartment room and not riding in a spaceship heading breezily through the darkness towards its set destination.

 _Real smooth for not buying a crib! Real, real smooth! I hope I don't need a pacifier too, because I didn't buy one of those either!_

All the while he chastised himself as the baby silently watched his antics from the bed. Zim flinched a few times when Dib chucked some clothing behind him.

Dib felt like a dog digging its way to a bone, but instead of mud flying everywhere; it was clothing, slippers, hangers and magazines. A black boot flew and landed on the corner of the bed. Zim crawled on over to it as a sock landed on his soft skull. He picked up the boot and started tugging on the laces, fascinated with this new toy. Dib turned round, saw what he was in the process of doing and took it off him.

"No! It's dangerous, honey." He said. "Here. Play with these." And he gave the smeet some of the toys he had bought on Flaxier 19. There was a plastic model of a space ship, a soft badger, and a plush blue dog. Zim went for the plastic ship and tugged it apart easily with his claws. Bits of plastic went everywhere.

Before he tried to bite on the bits with his one tooth, Dib took it off him as well.

"No! You broke it! I can't have you swallowing the pieces."

The smeet squealed for the pieces to be returned, but Dib was already dumping them in the bin for later disposal.

"Note to self. Don't give him anything that breaks." Dib muttered, and went back to finding a suitable bed. There was a shoebox, bent and creased from long storage, but it was one size too small. He wanted the smeet to feel comfortable, not cramped up like a sardine in a can.

It took him some time to realize that there was nothing suitable in the bedroom. He looked to the smeet, and his heart ached with strange maternity when he noticed Zim stroking the fuzzy head of the blue dog with juvenile affection.

"Zim," he said, "I'm heading over to the designated eating room... I mean the uh... kitchen to try and find something for you to sleep in. I'll be two seconds. Don't do anything!"

One antenna dithered upwards, as if to pick up on his words, but the smeet gave him no other signs of acknowledgement.

 _I think I've gone and hurt his feelings._

 _Wow. He's five days old and already he's emotionally complex._

He was alternatively fascinated and daunted and anxious. If all Irken babies did was incoherently babble, and drool, and cry for food, he believed his job would be as easy as pie. But he wasn't dealing with something as simple as all that that had a brain of mush. He was dealing with a sensitive, emotional being who seemed to be already suffering from emotional trauma. Why else had Zim selectively become a mute? Unless there was something wrong with his throat or vocals? But he could cry! Loudly, at that too!

Dib went through the section where he cooked and ate, and peered in all the cupboards in there as well, hoping something would inspire him or be bed-like enough for a smeet of such tender age. He looked at the frying pans and shook his head.

When that search proved pointless, he dipped into the bathroom next to the big pantry where he stored all his edible goods, ration packs and NASA space travel foods.

In the bathroom, he threw open the shower curtain and peered at the fake windowsill with tired eyes.

 _Nothing here either._

He opened the medicine cabinet, and his towel cupboard. Inside was a basket made of real wood full of neatly folded, fresh clean towels. He picked it out and felt along the wooden ribs, estimating its size and capacity.

 _Yes! This will do perfectly!_

He dumped the towels out of it and inspected the dusty innards of the towel basket for any bits of broken wood or dirt. He gave it a quick wipe with a cloth using recycled water and decided it would do very well. The basket was about 17 inches long and 12 inches wide. Zim could lie in it, snuggled with blankets without having to feel cramped, but with enough security to curl up in it and feel safe, for its sides were quite steep.

Bringing it with him, and using both his hands to hold it, for the wood of the basket was quite dense, he made it back to the bedroom. But when he returned, he stopped dead in the open doorway, clutching the basket to his chest.

Zim was still on the bed as instructed, but he was playing with hundreds and hundreds of white, fluffy feathers. Lying by his curled kneecap was one of Dib's pillows, and it had been ripped open down the middle, exposing its feathery viscera. Of these goose feathers, they slowly cascaded and floated, seesawing down around the smeet like snowflakes. Zim was reaching up and playing with them. Some had got in his mouth, and others were stuck to his antennae. A few had even tickled down the collar of his pyjamas. When Dib stood there, gaping at the destructive mess, Zim must have sensed he was there. He turned to look at the human, and his claws hung in mid-swing to catch the feathers. He looked very guilty.

"Oh my god." Dib watched the feathers scatter amongst the sheets and on the floor in their hundreds. He had really liked that pillow.

Zim shrunk away, cringing when Dib dumped the basket by his feet and came towards him.

"You like to destroy things, don't you?" He said, bringing up his hands to pick the smeet up. Zim protested a remorseful moan, shying from Dib's reach. Dib picked him up and moved him away from the shower of feathers. He then sat him on his lap and began plucking them off his little body. "It's okay, I'm not mad. I'm just angry." Dib muttered with a short sigh. He got Zim to open up his mouth by nudging his fingers against his lips to retrieve two very wet feathers. "No swallowing things unless its food! Now I've got to clear it all up! But only after I've sorted _you_ out!"

He imagined the smeet had done it because it was fun. And curious. He did not like to think the smeet had done it on purpose for vindictive reasons. But he was still trying to get a grip on how baby Irkens worked, and the Halycon seller had warned him that the one he bought was a defective, whatever the heck that meant.

"Now, sit still for two minutes and don't do anything. I need to get your bed ready." Dib sat him on the floor and proceeded to get the basket ready. Luckily he had at least bought a bounty of blankets and pillows for this little thing, for those things had come to mind straight away on the hot, dusty streets of Flaxier 19, but, due to his inexperience, he had not thought of anything else.

He lined the hard base of the basket with padding and a long pillow that filled the edges. Then he layered another coverlet to cover the hard walls of the basket. Finally he added in pink pillows and fluffy pink blankets as extra comfort. It had become quite a luxurious bed from its humble beginnings as a storage unit for towels, and he was pleased at himself for another small accomplishment he had been able to fulfil.

He looked up at the clock on the wall hanging opposite his bed – positioned there so that when he was drifting between dreams, all he had to do was peek up and see it. And man, was he tired! He still lived his life by the clock. And he still functioned using Earth time, even if it never applied out here in the cold, unfriendly reaches of space. But it applied to him. Looking at the time reminded him how long it had been since he had last eaten, or slept, or relaxed. Most aliens did not constrain themselves to the primitive strings of time. They went about, fulfilling their quotas, their objectives, or their next mission report. Besides, each planet had its own time zone, its own set of rules depending on its orbit and rotation around whatever sun or suns it happened to be rotating around. So aliens went by their own schedules without adhering to the passages of time on a clock.

Now it was midnight back in America, and Dib was usually sound asleep by then. It was good to keep to a routine, and to eat and sleep plenty, should he run into any problems with his ship. It was also important to stay healthy when he had no one to depend on but himself.

For, with no sunsets or sunrises to depend on, he often set an alarm to signal when it was time for bed, or he could easily lose track of time.

Zim opened his mouth in a huge, gaping yawn. Dib noticed, as he was yawning, that he had a single little tooth in his upper mouth. Not only that, but he also saw the smeet's creepy and unusual lizard-like tongue that was especially slender and red looking, reminding him of earth worms.

"Well, bedtime! No more sleeping on dirty straw in cold glass prisons for you. You get the luxury suite!" Dib wrapped his hands around the smeet's little chest, and lifted him up. Then he deposited him in the basket and guided him down to rest, for the smeet still seemed perplexed as to what was going on. Zim was obviously not used to having a routine, or a bed for that matter, and so everything was new and unknown.

"That's it, lay down. God, I hope Irkens sleep. I wouldn't know what to do if you bounced around all night." He tucked him in, very pleased at the way Zim sunk into the plethora of blankets, all bundled up and cocooned in softness. Zim lay on his side, still holding himself tensely as Dib wrapped him up, making sure that all his hands and feet were well covered up.

Once that was done, Dib gently touched the smeet's forehead with the back of his hand to gauge his temperature. He wasn't cold, and that was good. If anything, he felt a little too warm. Zim suddenly sneezed, snuffling with nasal congestion.

"Still got the sniffles, huh? I'm hoping that will go soon."

He picked up the basket and took it out of the bedroom.

Sliding another door open with the press of a button while he straddled the basket against his hip as if he was carrying a pail of milk, Dib stepped into a spare room that housed all of his books and labelled files. It was slowly becoming his study or recreation room, away from the busy hubbub of the bridge. He had accidently napped here a few times, missing hailed calls from other alien vessels as they passed him by.

He placed the basket on the floor.

"You can sleep in here for now," he told the smeet, who was looking at him from his blankets. Slowly Dib was getting the gist of his emotions. They were _there,_ but they were so subtle, so very discreet that it was hard to pick up on them. Humans were just so expressive, and their emotions could be read so easily that you didn't even need to step back and decipher them. But Zim's emotions were oftentimes clouded, and were not easy to notice unless you actually paid attention to them. The antennae were definitely a big part in it, and their gestures and motions were still grossly unknown. When Rath came to visit, his emotions had been even harder to detect. For all he knew, that albino Irken had been grimacing at him the whole while and Dib would have been none the wiser!

A dimple of confusion was showing on the smeet's face, for one antenna was raised as if in question, and both eyes were shimmering up at Dib in a pleading kind of way.

"It's perfectly safe in here, and I'm just in the next room. I'll come and check on you in a few hours, but right now Dib needs some sleep."

And he left it at that. He still had a room full of feathers to clean up and stuff back into his pillow, if the pillow was even repairable. So he stood up, approached the open doorway and stepped out into the corridor. As soon as he slid the door shut he could hear the smeet wail with newfound cries within the closed off room.

 _He'll get used to the idea._

But the smeet _didn't_ get used to the idea. Even while Dib spent ages on the floor, cleaning up the feathers and gathering them into easy to manage piles, he could hear the smeet crying through the walls. And even after he had stuffed the feathers back into the pillow, and had done a poor job of sowing the ripped gash back up again, he could still hear the thing crying its heart out.

It took all of Dib's patience and willpower to not go and open the door, and to not go to Zim.

 _He'll exhaust himself._

 _He'll go to sleep._

 _It's better this way. I can't get attached to him. If he sleeps with me, I'll bond with him. He's not mine. He needs to learn that the hard way if that's what it takes._

About half an hour later, Zim was still wailing. Only, the cries had taken on a sunken appeal. Some were louder, in a tantrum-kind of way, and others were genuine sobs of lonely sorrow. Zim was cantering between anger and sadness. He wanted Dib to come in to see him. And was frustrated when it wasn't happening.

Dib couldn't stand it.

He knew this might be tough, but he didn't think it would be this hard.

 _Go to sleep, go to sleep._

The pillow was repaired, even though it looked misshapen and ugly and the last of every feather had been retrieved.

Dib then had a shower using hot, recycled water, for he was very careful how much he used, changed into soft, casual clothing and had himself a light meal of reconstituted beef lasagne and a tall glass of orange juice. Even way down in the cafeteria, he could still hear Zim's distant crying.

He had been at it for an hour now.

But when Dib had washed up his plates, and was about to turn in for some much-needed sleep, the cries took on a new sickly cadence. He could hear the smeet coughing and sniffling.

Dib had the door to the storage room slide open and he waved his hand in front of the motion sensor for the light to turn on. Zim was sitting up in his basket, soaked in fever. And he was trembling. Great rivers of snot glistened his upper lip and his eyes appeared to have sunken-in. Even his blankets were wet with stress-induced sweating.

Now Dib felt bad. Really bad.

He had just shut a five day old baby in an unfamiliar room, in the dark.

He had wanted to secure the freedom of having no attachments. Life would be easier that way. Now he was hiking that plan out the window.

"Zim, what's the matter? I'm right here!"

The smeet's face was wet with snot and tears. Dib could hear strange new wheezes emitting from his chest each time he wetly inhaled.

 _That can't be good._

"Okay, okay, you win little guy. You win. Easy now." He said as he approached the basket. Then he picked it up, feeling the smeet's hot little breaths against his neck. "Guess you'll be sleeping with me after all."

* * *

 **Dib07:** Bam! Another chapter submitted! Yay! ;) Tell me what you think! I'd love to read your thoughts! Sorry for the wait, but I am thrilled in a BIG way how much of you are enjoying this, judging by the reviews!


	4. Costly Mistake

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be going home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet slowly becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against those who want all defectives dead.

 **Warnings:**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. Alternative Universe.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

 **The story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Sin Hogar/tenebrio. The picture is owned by her. Please do not use/burrow without her or my permission. Thanks for reading! ^^**

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 **AN:**

Hi all! I really need to get a lot of these chapters out, and I am proud to say I have a very good ending for this story! It's not out in writing yet, but it is in my notes!

Also, I am aware that Saving Zim only has 20 chapters left, and though that may seem like a lot still, to me it's the final countdown until I leave ffn. So I must finish and post this story above all as well.

Another MASSIVE shoutout to you: the reviewer! I hope I have replied to every one of you! I have been so swamped in work and family life that I haven't had a lot of time to reply which isn't like me at all. And yeah, this story has got so many reviews! I'm so happy! I cannot BELIEVE it! I love you all so much!

Also, for those younger readers reading this, I will warn you, there is a bit of blood. Don't be afraid to skip it when you get to it. It's really short. ;)

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 **Guest**

Sorry for the wait and thank you for being patient with me! I will try and get another update out next week to make up for it! ;)

 **Guest**

Me too! He is so adorable! And so little! Every baby needs much cuddling!

 **Very good**

It sounds like a good idea! But ah! The realist in me says that cannot work, as Zim and Dib are two very different species! I'm so sorry! It is a cute idea! But I'm afraid you'll just have to contend with this story! Thanks for suggesting it though! ;)

 **Heather**

He is precious, isn't he? So fragile, so tiny, such a warm little bundle of fun! I feel such strong motherhood/maternity urges when I write this. I wish he was real!

 **Guest**

Thank you SO MUCH! Back before I even submitted 'Saving Zim' I was not going to submit anymore after 'Out of the Game' believing the fandom was quite dead and forgotten. Now my stories are being eaten up, and it's the best decision I have made sharing these stories with you. I am so grateful, you wouldn't believe.

 **pff**

Thanks! :)

 **RhiannonsaurusRex**

Oh gosh I remember when I drew on the walls! Why does every child have to do that!? It's so funny! Especially when there was no shortage of paper in my house! Kids make no sense, in an adorable kind of way! Before rules become such a boring part of our lives, we were very free as children! Hahah! It sounds like you and your brother had a great time owning the room for just 15 minutes! Children have so much creative energy, as well as destructive energy! I wish I had some of that energy now! I have to really honour parents. They really do dedicate all of their time and energy for their little horrors, haha! I bet it's not easy! It's hard enough looking after baby animals, and well, smeets! And yes, I think intelligent babies/kids must be the worst because they want to get into everything, and know everything, and try things out, because their mind and curiosity demands it.

Yes, Dib has so much to learn, and every mistake he makes can be a really bad one. A baby choking on an object is the absolute worst. Even if smeet Zim can heal with the aid of his PAK, say, it can do nothing for him if he chokes. He can die really quickly. It was foolish of Dib to leave him like that with the feather pillow and toys. Dib is still a little wrapped up in his own ways, as he has lived that selfish bachelor life. I think, if he had a female present, they'd instinctively know immediately what to do and what not to do, but Dib hasn't got those skills, yet. Plus, until he sees Zim as 'his' he won't have that precious bond, and that stronger feeling of protection. He just sees Zim as a foster kid. Which isn't wise. And yes, I believe children must make excellent escape artists! Especially when they are supposed to be sleeping! I remember being restless as a kid, but more because I was afraid of the dark, and the nightmares. Smeet Zim has been plenty of trauma already, which has doubled his insecurity.

 _''Also with children, especially young children, you cannot leave them to sleep by themselves, they need to be monitored, for health reasons, and they feel more secure with someone there with them. Hopefully Dib has learnt this lesson and won't leave baby Zim alone like that again. That was sad to see Zim cry like that the poor we thing. But it is nice to see that he is aware of Zim's needs like with the feeding and burping. Babies make all sorts of sounds and though some are similar, like there's various types of crying, it's just a matter of interpreting what each sound is. Like is this a I'm hungry cry or a I'm fed up with this cry. You learn to spot the difference.''_

Ahaha. Yes, I see how important that is now, to sleep with them and monitor their health. Thank goodness I seem to be doing everything right so far, considering I wrote these early few chapters months ago. I think Dib pretty much nails it in the beginning of this chapter - well - sort of. And yes, I think he is learning Zim's crying sounds, as the tiny little thing doesn't want to talk! Bless him!

You have helped me so, so much! I love your insight and I eat up every word you write. You've given me some inspiring ideas and it's really motivated me to push forth a few more chapters. I never thought I'd do baby versions of characters, but here I am! I must be getting old! XD Thanks so, so much Rhian! I hope you are doing okay! I haven't heard from you in a while, but I hope you are doing fine wherever you are! Take care! :)

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 **Chapter Four: Costly Mistake**

It took Dib a further hour to clean and dry all of Zim's blankets and spoiled clothes. How many hours had he had this smeet now? Six? And Zim had already been through two changes of clothing.

But the smeet was exhausted, and frighteningly feverish. His terrible shakes were back, and he was sniffling and coughing worse than before. For about thirty minutes Dib held him in his arms while he paced, alternatively rocking and hugging the stressed smeet, all the while cooing to him softly to try and allay his tears.

 _I... I think he's sick..._ A little voice started to whisper: and it was one voice he didn't want to hear.

 _It's just a cold. I've worked him up. Of course he's going to sound worse!_

 _What if it isn't a cold? Or it is, but it's got worse? Babies can pick anything up! I doubt smeets are no different, especially when they are just runts._

 _No, no. He'll be all right. He's just weak from malnourishment is all._

"Please don't cry, Zim. I'm really sorry. I just... I just don't want either of us to get attached to one another. That's all. Really."

He was beginning to think that Zim might never sleep, but at a quarter to two in the morning, Zim suddenly sagged against Dib's shoulder, eyes closed as he became as limp as a dishcloth. Tears darkened the bottom rim of his eyes and snot had gathered where his invisible nostrils were. Dib had kept wiping his face clean with baby wipes every few minutes, only for more of it to appear.

Dib had not realized how far down defeat could feel like.

He waited for the voices of doubt and insecurity to return.

They did not.

With the smeet coddled in his arms, Dib peeled back the coverlet of the bed and slipped between the cool sheets. He then gently lay down with the smeet tucked up in his arms against his chest.

 _So much for my plans of having Zim sleep in the basket._

He could feel the little thing oscillating – from fever or from stress, or a combination of both.

Dib felt terrible. New guilt spiked into him in fresh, painful waves whenever he felt Zim shiver.

He had just been trying to do what was best. Separation was usually a necessary objective when you didn't want to get too fond of something.

Now it had backfired.

 _Do smeets usually get_ this _attached to their... owners, or parents, or whatever it is they have?_

The few Irkens he had glanced at had never seemed like the emotional type, clingy type. They strutted around in a militarized march, looking like borderline psychopaths with dreadfully murderous eyes. Or maybe it was _because_ they had never had any parents explained why they were like they were.

Dib could not close his eyes for a very long time. Zim's shivering really worried him, and it twisted his heart into painful knots. He had an extra blanket wrapped around his little frame, plus Zim had his body heat to warm him up, plus the coverlet of the bed. But the irregular trembling continued.

He waited for his heat to sink into the little smeet. Waited and waited.

Finally, at two minutes past three, the little mite's shivering had slowed right down to a couple of jolts every now and again until finally he was lying peacefully against Dib's chest. His tears had all dried up and his breathing was good and deep. There was still the occasional creak at the back of a long inhale, as if the smeet's lungs were cramped, but you really had to strain to hear it, which was a vast improvement from before.

Now he was too afraid to get up to use the toilet, afraid of disturbing the smeet again and reducing him back to tears.

So Dib lay there, cuddling the little thing, and drifting off occasionally. Sooner or later he would catch himself and wake up; sure he had fidgeted and had hurt the baby beneath his weight. But every time he was startled into being, he would look down and see Zim still safely cradled against his chest, unharmed, undisturbed.

Relieved in the deepest possible way, Dib slipped off to sleep again. But his head was full of cold worry; a tangle of anxious knots and terrible dark, and what he did dream, he could not remember.

xxx

When Dib woke up, it was not the alarm clock that had woken him, or the automated light system that turned itself on to emulate natural sunrise in his room. It was the smeet. He was kicking and clawing weakly, not harming Dib in the slightest, but it looked as though he was having a bad dream. He could feel his little knees brush against his chest, and feel his claws clench and then unclench against his clothing, like a kitten kneading for milk.

Truthfully, he was a little excited about the day ahead of him. On most days during a voyage when he got up, and after he had had a steaming hot cup of coffee, he'd slop about the upper decks for another hour or so in a gown, lazily working his way down the list of what needed doing, what needed looking at, and what consoles and data streams needed to be monitored. Now, this smeet was a complete break in an otherwise boring, but well-practised routine. As much as he wanted to get rid of the baby in all eventualities, and 'set-it-free,' this smeet was a ray of sunshine in his life. He had not realized just how lonely he had been, until this little cutie had fallen in his lap.

With one clumsy hand, he reached over to the nightstand where his alarm clock stood to snatch up his glasses. Sliding them over his sleepy eyes, the clocks minute and hour hands focused into sharp clarity. In Lincoln, millions of light years away, it was eight o'clock in the morning.

"Good morning, Captain." Said Blue, Dib's ship computer. She could basically speak to him in any part of the ship and answered to his commands without preamble. She was programmed to have a bit of humour, and she had a homely, sweet voice that was ever so slightly robotic. She was also the security, and the main monitoring system.

"Good morning, Blue." His response was unnecessary, and he knew it. But he said it anyway, as he had been doing for the past seven years.

Even though he had slept damn near five hours give or take, he felt lousy, like he hadn't slept at all. He supposed every new father felt this way after the first night of having a newborn in the home. For it was emotionally draining.

He looked down at the smeet cropped against his chest, one of its nubby fingers in its mouth.

 _You're now 6 days old. And you've only spent 11 or so hours with me._

Now it was back into the reluctant-father-routine until he found someone better capable of taking care of it. Then once Zim had breakfast, he'd go about his daily maintenance slog inside the ship. Every damn day the ship needed to be maintained, its engines checked, its power core levels accessed to make sure nothing was going topsy-turvy. Blue reported back to him on digital statistics and if any one system went into the red zone, but problems needed to be found and rectified before they even went anywhere near any such danger levels.

Dib tried to slide out of bed carefully so as not to disturb the smeet, but one claw happened to be attached to his clothing. Dib gently untethered the finger like he was loosening himself from a hook and managed to free himself. Tenderly he shored up his warmed blankets over and around the smeet until just his head was exposed, and he went to relieve himself and grab a coffee.

As he was prone to do, after having lived by himself for so long, he started talking to himself in his Mess Hall, a deck that really was just a kitchen and combined dining area.

He opened up the fridge and selected the long-life milk from the shelf.

"Why couldn't you have gone and got yourself a puppy, Dib? It would have been so much easier, but no, you had to go and buy a smart but demanding baby Irken. Yeah. Real smooth. My dad would be shaking his head at me right about now. So would my sister, in fact. Just another complication, on top of every other complication I have."

He poured himself some coffee, got showered and changed into his usual blank pants, a blue shirt and a black jacket. When he returned to the bedroom, he saw the smeet just waking up. He had sat himself up and was currently rubbing his eyes. When he stopped, and looked up at Dib, the human noticed that Zim's eyes didn't look as bright. It was almost as if they were covered in an oily film, and hiding the shine beneath. Because of this thin opaqueness, his eyes no longer reflected Dib's image back at him.

"Hello, uh, Zim." He said, feeling awkward in the one-sided conversational exchange. It was hard enough trying to socialize with a smart baby, let alone a smart baby that happened to be a mute. "Good morning, I guess. You hungry? I bet you are."

He tried to picture himself as a father, but he couldn't quite see it. Especially not with a baby that belonged to a different species.

He did not like to see the smeet's feeding as a chore, but to him, it was, when he had a whole lot of other more important things to attend to.

Getting out the usual formula in the pink baby bottle, Dib sat with him on the bed with the tablet and stylus on standby. He was hoping to chat with the little thing again, if Zim wanted to.

After shaking the bottle, Dib picked him up and deposited Zim on his lap. He was getting better at holding the smeet, and feeling that little bit more confident.

When he tried to feed him, dipping the bottle into his mouth with uneasy practise, Zim did not exhibit the same hunger he had shown last night. He only hesitantly sucked down the formula before withdrawing after about three minutes, and even then his slurps had been slow and half-hearted.

"Don't you want anymore?" He asked when Zim stopped drinking and refused Dib each time he gently tried to tease the nip of the bottle back into his mouth. The smeet kept turning his head away, and flinching back each time, until at last he buried his face in the crook of Dib's arm. "Surely you must still be hungry?"

 _Maybe his stomach can't hold very much?_

Dib put the bottle down and went to burp the smeet like before. He supported Zim against his shoulder, with one hand below the smeet's rear and one hand on his metal-dome contraption as he patted him gently. He got a feel of the metal shell on the smeet's back as he did this, feeling the strange grooves and smooth outer shell as he tried to guess at the density of the material. The dome had three singular ports, oval in shape, and about an inch wide in diameter. And they were emanating a warm, soft pink that glowed when he clasped a hand over each port. The metal was thick, and tough, and did not even produce a single echo when he lightly tapped his fingernail on it. It was as if the dome within was compact inside, and full of something. When he tried to nudge it loose, he received a nasty squeal from the smeet that made him go temporarily deaf in one ear.

Being the inventor and gadget-wizard that he was, not to mention being the son of an esteemed, noble scientist, Dib naturally wanted to explore this metal dome much further, and take x-rays of it, CAT scans, you name it, and pry open one of the ports just to look inside. Paradoxically, the newfound father in him backed away from this idea instantly in a violent turnabout. He was pretty sure this odd, metal construct seemingly growing out of the smeet's back served a VERY important purpose, and that tampering with it would surely bring about the smeet's premature death. After all, wouldn't it be like opening up the protective shell of a snail? Maybe, like the snail's shell, the metal dome was a kind of life support, hard to crack because it was delicate within? Or was it some vital oxygen-processing unit? But that couldn't be right. The smeet was breathing by using his chest, and there were no extruding tubes extending from the metal dome to anywhere else on his body.

 _Leave it alone._ Dib told himself, even though the scientist within him wanted to know more about it.

"Better now?" Dib asked, lifting Zim away from his shoulder and holding him up with both hands, feeling oddly like Rafiki in the movie: The Lion King that he had watched when he was a kid.

Zim giggled, seemingly liking the height. The noise was a brief access to hearing his voice: a voice the smeet was keeping well locked up behind a wall of silence. The giggles were very shrill, and squeaky, like hearing car tires braking very quickly.

He got a small whiff of a smell.

A poopy smell.

"I bet your diaper needs changing."

The chore ahead wasn't quite so fun. But Dib just mentally put his head down and decided to just get it over with. Babies pooped after all. And babies pooped a lot.

He lowered the smeet back into his lap, watching his antennae rise up, and then down.

 _What are you thinking? What's going through that young mind of yours?_

 _I wonder what you think of me?_

Dib smiled, and the smeet smiled back.

He felt Zim's little head, and sadly felt a touch of fever still present. He did not understand why Zim felt overly warm. Was it because of this cold he had had since being in that glass cage?

Because he had been wanting to for quite some time now, since seeing the smeets for the first time in that glass prison in fact, he lifted up a hand and ever so softly touched Zim's right antenna. He knew it was wrong of him to do this, but he just wanted to know what it felt like, what it did!

Zim spontaneously giggled and shrieked in pain at the same time as if touching his antenna both tickled and hurt him. Either way, the unprompted sounds made Dib retract his hand super fast before he had even got a proper feel of it. He just managed to get a sense of its flexing rigidity.

"Sorry!" He said. "Guess I'll remember not to do that again."

He felt more and more like the bumbling father that he was.

Getting a new diaper ready, Dib laid a thick blanket on the floor and reclined Zim to rest on it. Zim watched him with two parts curiosity and two parts affection. Whatever fear had been haunting the smeet, it seemed to have dissolved, but only when he was in Dib's company. Alone, and his demons made their daily visit: or whatever it was that had made the smeet cry so in the little study.

"You're really smart, for a baby, Zim." Dib said as he began to undo the smeet's pyjamas to get at the diaper beneath, "You can write, and read, judging by what you did on the tablet yesterday. So why do you need a diaper? You just not used to life yet?"

He wanted a response. Anything! A single word would do! Or a single baby babble! The smeets in the glass box under the presiding glare of the Halycon had been jabbering amongst themselves quite freely in their own language. So why couldn't Zim?

 _Maybe he will. When he's ready._ Spoke a voice.

The smell got stronger.

 _Ugh. The part I've been dreading!_

With the lower baby pants unbuttoned, Dib pulled away the sticky elastic from both sides of the diaper and peeled it down, revealing the sorrel, stinking mess. Dib sharply pulled away, wafting at the air below his noise. "Ugh! Gross!"

At this, the smeet chuckled as if he found Dib's forced predicament to be very amusing.

"And I thought my shit smelt bad! Peehew!" He grabbed the clean diaper, trying to think of a way to safely exchange it without getting baby poop everywhere. The poop itself was very sloppy and runny. He wished he knew what consistency smeet poop was supposed to look like. Was it bad that it was this sloppy?

As Dib lifted up his legs slightly, he saw with reluctant dread that the poop had gotten all down his undercarriage and loins.

"I think a bath is a much better idea. What do you think? Then you'll be clean _and_ comfortable. Hold on just a moment." He left Zim lying in his smelly diaper, and Zim, being obedient and loyal, did not move, because he sensed that Dib would come back. And return he did, carrying a sink basin he had just filled with soapy warm water from the ship's bathroom. At once Zim sat up in his poop, eyes wide as he stared, riveted, at the water sloshing at the sides of the basin Dib had just set down before him. His antennae flattened tightly against his skull and he started to shiver again.

Dib assumed he was a tad nervous because it was something new. "It's just water, honey, it can't hurt you."

 _Poor thing's never seen water before._

Dib dipped his elbow into the warm, bubbly water to test the temperature. Using his elbow instead of his hands was a better method for feeling how hot it was, for asbestos hands might not feel the heat like the rest of the body could. It was another bit of odd trivia he had picked up during his life on Earth.

Satisfied at the lukewarm temperature, he stripped the smeet of his clothes. As soon as he went to pick him up though, Zim dived from under his hands and scrabbled to get away, slipping on the used diaper as he went. Dib caught him easily, and Zim shrieked like a wild animal that had just been caught. As Dib lifted him upwards, heading back now towards the basin, Zim started to shake his head furiously, struggling vainly against the hands that held him.

"It's okay, Zim! I'll just give you a quick bath! It'll be over before you know it!"

His deduction, his _estimation_ of the situation was likened to a sandcastle ebbing away block by block against the gurgling, hungry tide. His execution of the bath, which might have all seemed well and good with any other species, became a melting disaster in more ways than one.

And the only thing he came away with other than the tears in his eyes and the overwhelming shame in his heart: was how very ignorant he was on the Irken species.

He dunked the little smeet into the water, bottom first, and Zim clutched weakly onto Dib's hands with his claws as if the human had him dangling from an immense height. Then there was an acrid, burning smell, and the smeet started shrieking like a terrified ferret.

Alerted to the smeet's unusual show of pain that frightened Dib, he lifted him back out to see the water sizzling. Odd, dark greenish fluid was now floating in the bubbles and water. Then his eyes cast to Zim's lower half as he held him, and saw that his bottom and lower legs had been stripped raw of their natural skin. Steam, not from the heat of the water but from the sizzling flesh itself rose into the air.

It was like the water had melted off his layers of skin, leaving his bare flesh runny with dark green fluid that had to be the little thing's blood.

In his arms, Zim continued to shriek so hard that Dib could feel his body shudder in his hands with each cry.

Dib felt a steep light-headedness soak into his mind from the slow realization of what he had done. Zim's crying continued, but the noise was muffled in his ears as the human dealt with the dawning horror of his incurred actions.

Zim had reacted to the bath. Or even the soap _in_ the water.

 _Note to self: water is bad; water is very, very BAD!_

 _Good Lord, I've just hurt a baby._

 _Yeah, okay, it was totally unintentional, but..._

 _You don't know what you're doing! You shouldn't have bought it!_

The guilt thickened.

Shaky and feeling pretty faint, Dib patted and coddled Zim constantly in his arms to try and appease his loud wailing cries.

"I'm so, so sorry! Oh gods, I'm so sorry, Zim!"

 _I should have listened to you! You warned me, and I did nothing!_

 _You knew! You knew the water would hurt you! Was it instinct? Or did you experience it not long after you were born?_

Kneeling down by the towel, he rocked Zim to and fro in his arms, feeling the warm blood seep through his own clothing as efficiently as ink blotched through parchment. Ribbons of blood etched out lines between his claw-like toes and dripped onto the floor, creating little puddles of green.

With foggy eyes, he looked around at the various objects laying nearby to see if anything inspired help.

Then he saw the towel and the open box of baby wipes.

 _Baby wipes! I've used them on him before with no ill effects!_

Picking up the towel, he used this to wrap around Zim's bloodied legs while the smeet hung onto him with hooked claws. Then he started dabbing at the raw flesh with the baby wipes. The alcoholic wipes stung, for Zim's shrieks heightened a few notches until Dib's ears were ringing.

"I'm so, so sorry!" He repeated, locked as he was in the guilty auto-pilot tirade.

The guilt was so extreme in fact that he felt physically ill. He had suffered no emotional disaster like this! It was as if his feelings had been rolled over with a plow, and all that remained was the messy hurt.

The bleeding stopped, and Zim squawked for a bit like an injured bird, but the metal dome on his back started to do something. As Zim had been lying on his side, lifting his leg away each time Dib meant to dab some wipes against it, he saw the PAK's three ports bleed a far brighter pink and the dome of metal got warmer to the touch. Dib paused in his ministrations, a pile of bloodied baby wipes on his left, and a box half empty on his right as he watched the smeet's legs begin to magically heal. In seconds the bare flesh didn't look as horrendously painful as new skin seemed to grow from beneath the old: stretching until the soft, burned flesh was closed up by new, lime-green tissue. Every patch that had sizzled away was healed up, skin closing and leaving not a line or a trace of where the damage occurred. Moments later Zim did not show a stitch of damage. The PAK lights dimmed back to their customary glow and the excess heat died. Zim awkwardly sat up on the bloody towel, rubbing at his wet eyes. He had stopped shrieking.

All that remained was the blood to suggest what had just happened, happened.

His mind was so bulked with guilt that the human could barely process this new development.

In fact, his emotions were steam-rolling ahead as if his thoughts were but a fast train speeding out of control, and he was just the hapless passenger along for the ride with no way off.

 _I gotta stop fucking up!_

 _Smeets are harder to look after than I thought! I didn't sign up for THIS!_

 _And... and did he just heal?_

 _Nothing can heal that fast! The damage was extensive! What I just saw is just impossible!_

But he had seen it. And the wounds were healed.

The blood remained, of course, to show that Dib hadn't completely lost his marbles. He even gently touched the area on Zim's little legs where the damage had been, but he could not find a trace of any burn marks. To heal so fast and so perfectly got Dib a little too excited, and for a moment he forgot about his responsibilities to the smeet and became a scientist on the threshed of some new and life-changing discovery. He wanted to take Zim to a lab, and run some more tests, take a skin sample, and make a graph of his blood and chemical work.

Zim's nervous mewling brought Dib back, and he blinked down at the smeet. The little alien had seen something in Dib's eyes that he had not liked and for a whole moment Dib had to blink and re-establish himself. The excitement was still there, but he remembered his fatherly responsibilities with a rueful reluctance. To make dozens of fresh blood samples and have him lay on some table while he ran tests would only traumatise the smeet. Besides, he had bought the baby not to run tests for personal gain, but to look after it until a suitable surrogate mother came along.

"Did... did you just heal yourself? That was amazing, Zim!"

 _Surely something like that takes energy?_

And it became clear that yes, that was indeed the case, and that the smeet in question did not have the energy for the trade-off.

The smeet slopped to one side on the bloodied towel, his eyelids drooped to low crescents and his arms and legs turned to limp noodles on the instant. It was as if his life had been drained: like a battery low on power.

"No, no, don't go to sleep!"

He wasn't sure what was going on, but he didn't like Zim's sudden exhaustion.

He tried to get him sitting back up and nudging him a little, even going so far as to tap his cheeks to keep him floating above consciousness. Zim's crescent-slit eyes opened that little bit wider but all he did do was lean forwards into Dib's arms as he sought sleep.

Hurrying now, Dib dressed him up with a clean new diaper and silky, blue baby pyjamas covered in white polka dots. They were fluffy and velvety soft, perfect for keeping the smeet warm. But dressing him wasn't easy, as Zim was very limp and soft himself. His eyes were now closed, and his breathing had started to labour.

With him all dressed, Dib coddled him in one arm against his chest and tempted some formula down him with the baby bottle. He was worried that Zim had spent too much energy crying beforehand and 'then' healing. A dreadful fear had risen up on an unwelcome shore, and he was suddenly, overwhelmingly concerned that there was a possibility he could lose the smeet. Some instinct, motherly or logical that was once buried, had now risen to the surface of his turbulent mind; telling him to get as much feed and nutrients into Zim as possible. For the smeet had taken on a strange, dead kind of weight in his arm that he didn't like.

"Come on, little one. Just a little more, then you can sleep."

He managed to get something down him, he supposed, though it was hard to regulate exactly how much he was feeding him when he couldn't see through the bottle to gage at how much Zim had taken.

When he was about to deposit the little thing back in his towel basket full of new, dry blankets and pillows, (the old pile was yet to be disinfected and washed) Zim whinged, even with his eyes closed.

The message was clear: he did not want to be left alone.

Dib sighed frustratingly. He had a hundred chores to do, a lot of them checking and maintaining the ship's systems to make sure everything was in order. But the smeet had once again fetched his little claws into Dib's bloodied shirt and wouldn't let go, even when the human tried to tug the smeet off him.

Dib groaned.

* * *

 **Dib07:** That's it for that chapter! I hope it wasn't too gruesome! I am determined to keep this story very lighthearted, with some serious undertones in-between for us adults to reflect on and appreciate, but nonetheless I am loving this cute, fluffiness of a story I have somehow created from my more macabre imaginations. Smeet Zim is a very special little thing, and though this started off as just a curious one shot, it has taken my by surprise and I have expanded upon it with great joy and fascination. Man. I want a smeet so bad. I'd love to hear your thoughts, always! In the meantime, I'll see you next week (hopefully!)


	5. Getting There

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be going home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet slowly becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against those who want all defectives dead.

 **Warnings:**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. Alternative Universe.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

 **The story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Sin Hogar/tenebrio. The picture is owned by her. Please do not use/burrow without her or my permission. Thanks for reading! ^^**

* * *

 **AN:**

Here it is, another update! 2 stories at once! Thank you again for the insane amount of reviews, and general love this little story is receiving! Plus, for a little bit of side information, I do realize that the first Tallest was... Spock? Was it? But I chose Miyuki because she was a lover of warships and stuff.

* * *

 **Heather**

Hopefully this one is much more cheerful! Thanks for the review! I'm happy you like this little story!

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 **Chapter Five: Getting There**

"You win again, Zim."

This wasn't how he had planned things to go. He was slowly but surely getting more and more attached to the little mite, and Zim, well, Zim was already attached to him as if he was convinced that the hapless human was his new parent. Maybe it was because no one had ever been so gentle and kind to the smeet before (if you could overlook the recent bath episode), or maybe smeets just got attached to things.

With a beaten sigh blowing out of his lips, Dib selected a long, wide blue blanket and turned it into a sling. He double tied a fast, secure knot at his side so that the sling acted like a hammock: straddling the smeet to his chest like a makeshift baby carrier. Now he could carry Zim around and keep his hands free at the same time.

With Zim snuggled up and sucking on one finger as he slept in the sling, Dib went about to do his chores. The first thing he did was put all the wet, old blankets and dirty baby clothes into the washing machine.

After that, he began his daily rounds of the ship.

To save time and energy, he made his way in a circle through the decks.

To the stern were his cabin quarters which included the mess hall (kitchen), cold food storage and Med Lab. To the bow of the ship was the bridge and utility room. And below decks were the engine room, energy core and coolant tubes, as well as his tanks of reserved oxygen and recycled water.

He enjoyed making these rounds because it was his routine: his established practise that he had been doing religiously since his very first voyage to Pluto. Now he did it without even thinking, as a male lion habitually checked the establishment of his territory.

Much of the decks were in darkness, to save on power, and when Dib descended into the lower levels, the motion lights came on: ensuring that he could see the intestinal passageways and bulkheads.

Maintaining such a ship of standard size wasn't easy. If the ship was healthy, its passengers were healthy: for it was all he had to protect him from the extreme colds and vacuum of space. The ship was his mother and life-giver, but it was also his coffin: a sealed metal tin that flew through the abyss of death: the hull being the only thing that made life a possibility.

But it wasn't just the complications of an airless vacuum that worried Dib.

It was an electrical fire.

Like it was in the days of old, when wooden ships in the 18th century travelled across the seas, fire was the biggest threat on a vessel, especially due to the element's volatile nature and due to the concentrated levels of oxygen onboard. A fire untreated could be the singular cause of death. So, down every walkway, every deck, Dib had installed fire extinguishers that he replaced every time he returned to Earth.

The nuclear reactor housing the energy core had to be maintained too, and the coolants involved. To be a pilot you also had to have satisfactory knowledge on mechanical repairs, and knowing what tools to use, and what gear to wear. The energy core was radioactive, and the engine room was sealed behind three giga-ton doors that shielded the rest of the ship from its radioactive qualities.

As he bent behind the coolants and bulkheads, turning out his flashlight and checking the crannies for any damage to the tubes and wires, he felt the little six-day-old smeet move about for a moment in the sling, finding a new position to cuddle up in. Dib felt like a damn kangaroo, heavy with a joey.

He wouldn't go into the engine room, or the cold storage because of the bundle resting against his chest, but that was okay. He'd ask Blue to send him the energy reports to see if there was anything unusual: any kink or miscalculation.

And he was pretty proud of his cold storage room. It was jam-packed with every human and alien food imaginable for long treks. He had milk frozen in there, chickpeas and flour, fruit and packed meat. There was so much filling the shelves and boxes that it was like _Blue Thunder_ was catering to an army of one hundred men, and not only lonely passenger.

Helplessly his eyes rolled down to the smeet again, and at his head leaning against his chest. He had not wanted to imagine living with anyone else on this ship but himself. He supposed he wanted to keep the smeet, but that water-in-the-basin incident had proved that he had not capable of looking after a baby alien. He was barely any good at looking after himself, and usually lived off scraps because he couldn't be bothered to cook up a decent sized meal despite his massive food stockpiled in cold storage. Whatever energy he had, he dedicated to the ship.

He went down a few decks and checked a long wall of interior hull on the starboard side. The ship had two layers, like with 18th century ships. An exterior and an interior hull. If, at any time, there was damage to the exterior hull, he had a space suit to slip into, and an additional spare suit in case something happened to the first one. In all his years of space travel, he didn't like going outside, into space to do repair work, because that's where things could go wrong. He liked being protectively housed by the ship, and being boxed in. He didn't like the open vacuum of space, or the thoughts it provoked in him.

He had a sudden thought, a revelation if you will, as he swung back to the main deck to approach the bridge.

He had stopped feeling lonely.

Space always made him feel lonely, emphasised of course by being the only one onboard _Blue Thunder_.

He had routinely maintained the ship, listening to music as he worked to push back the trapped feelings of isolation and despair. It was not easy going back to Earth either, as much as he enjoyed and looked forward to going back. Being suddenly integrated with his own kind only made him feel more isolated, more alone. He wasn't sure how to socialize with his own species anymore, or what to say without feeling awkward and different. He had started off as an introvert anyway in his younger days, keeping to himself: inventing alone, daydreaming and talking to himself. Now he was a fulltime loner, travelling through the vast deep with but himself for company.

And ever since he had brought Zim to the ship, that loneliness had shattered so cleanly, so silently, that he had hardly noticed.

He hadn't been talking to himself either; he had been talking to the smeet, even if the smeet wouldn't answer in return. He had even slept with him, and had enjoyed the close comfort the baby had offered: feeling him kicking and squirming now and then. And he hadn't had any bad dreams. Usually, every time his head hit the pillow in his private bedroom cabin, he'd fall into a black hole ripe with nightmares. He'd be falling uncontrollably through the stars on fire, or he'd end up lost in some quadrant, only to be eaten alive by black bipedal forms that had unknowingly boarded his ship.

The nightmares had been a daily thing, and then, even during his working hours, he'd think he'd hear a bang down belowdecks, and he'd cower on the bridge, positive that someone or someTHING had stowed into his ship without his prior knowledge, and that it was standing there, in the dark below, waiting for him.

It was like living all alone in a dark house, he supposed, and hearing something going _bump_ in the night, only this was much, much worse.

Now, with this helpless smeet coddled to him, Dib had no more bad vibes, and no more bumbling paranoia steeped in unreasonable fear. He was no longer afraid of what might be lurking around the next corner, or what might be slithering amongst the shadows in the gangway. In truth, he hadn't even given these old demons a look-in. The smeet had got rid of them all.

And in that came the problem.

If and when Dib gave him up, the demons would come back.

Every single one.

Gently, Dib fetched out Zim's little hand from the sling and felt his tiny bones and his tiny, tiny wrist.

He suddenly wanted to keep him.

And then suddenly flinched against the idea just as fast.

 _I am no good to him. He needs proper care._

After the ship's routine scrutiny, Dib returned to the bridge: his main command room. He was always a little happier after he had seen to the ship's main metal bulk and seen no demons he had imagined were surely there, and saw that all was well and that there was nothing to mull and stress over. There were no leaks, no unbalanced chemical levels, and no kinks in the tubing that rode up and down the decks.

The ship was healthy as he knew it would be.

The central command bridge was always ready and waiting for him. The computer was on standby, and his current auto-pilot route was mapped out in a 4D model in front of the viewfinder (or main screen) that he could turn around with a mere flick of his hands to analyze distances and parameters if he so wanted.

He sat on the single command chair and engaged with the console. The set course for Irk was going without a hitch, and there was nothing to encounter for miles: no asteroids, no solar radiation and no solar winds.

Dib opened up a new datalink by typing on the console one-handed, while the other hand stroked the back of the smeet's head with unplanned tenderness.

"Hi, Blue. Anything to report?"

"No, Captain." The computer program answered in its cool, airy voice. "Everything is running at optimum efficiency. The Energy Core is stable, and the ship is running on 33% of its maximum power. Fuel levels are satisfactory. Oxygen consumption however is a little higher."

He liked receiving good news about the ship and its current energy systems. "That's because I have a second passenger onboard. His name is Zim."

"I understand."

"Blue, can you do a search on 'smeets' for me? Irken smeets? Anything you have on record, or from previous transmissions?"

"Searching..." There was a slight pause as the operating system went through its files, and that of the collective data gathered by the Aggros Federation Dib had previously downloaded. When nothing presented itself, Dib was sure Blue had nothing to showcase, but moments later she said: "Smeets are the puerile stage of adult Irkens."

 _Yes, yes!_

Dib was delighted. Blue had actually found something!

"Elaborate." Dib said.

"The Irken smeet is a bipedal life form with augmented intelligence that is usually downloaded into their PAK after birth or 'activation.'"

"Excuse me? Pack?"

"PAK: an Irken computer attached to the spinal column and nervous system of every Irken."

Dib leaned back against his chair, suffused with all this sudden knowledge. "Continue."

"Smeets, like their adult counterparts, have antennae present on either side of the skull. They have soft bodies, and generally have up to one or two teeth. For the first few weeks of their life they are given highly concentrated foods that promote growth and brain development to assist them in the arduous mental tasks of later life. Adult Irkens are mainly vegetarian."

There, she stopped.

"And?" Dib pressed, feeling like he had only got a taste of what there was to learn.

"That is all I have access to. There is no more information on 'Irken smeets.' I am sorry, Captain."

"You're kidding!"

"I assure you, I am not." Replied Blue, who never had much humour, even though Dib had tried programming it into her system. But he wasn't ready to roll over and give up. No way. Another approach was always best.

"What about Irkens in general? Adult Irkens?"

"Searching. Irkens originate from the military planet Irk..."

"Which I already know..." Dib gave a forlorn sigh. "But... but military is... uh... new."

"Their newly formed Empire is expanding and they have conquered 9 planets in the Aggros solar system."

"Conquered?"

"That is correct. Planets are captured for more space for their military, for resources and prisoners. They are at war with all."

Dib felt appalled. He was getting the gradual impression that these little Irkens were quite the aggressive bunch.

 _So, to deliver a lost orphan smeet, I'm heading to a military planet?_

 _Isn't that... bad?_

It was bad enough accidently heading over to a military division back on Earth, on normal soil amongst other human beings who were primed and ready to shoot you if you did not heed their warnings in case you were a daft fool or a spy. And he wasn't talking about ordinary men with ordinary guns here either. He was talking about aliens, and not just any aliens, but Irkens with war ships, scouting vessels and highly advanced gamma guns that could cut clean through the distance in space and slice and dice through any adamantine hull.

They might not even hail him, and may deem his unusual ship as 'suspicious,' which would no doubt be enough to kill on sight without question. And then Dib's entire life: his very pitiful existence would end in a blazing ball of death in the blackest reaches of space, and that would be it.

"Their current leader," Blue continued while Dib hung, dazed in a daydream of his damnation, "is a Tallest named Miyuki. She is currently designing and expanding the Irken starship war fleet or 'Armada.'"

"Tallest?"

"Yes. To be deemed a leader, an Irken must ascertain sufficient height amongst their peers. Their hierarchy is built on height alone."

"Anything else?" He added when Blue fell silent.

"No, that is all the sufficient data I have."

Well, he had learned enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth. He should have known Irkens weren't exactly a species to welcome him with open arms, judging by the ones he had seen on Flaxier 19, and the way Rath could sometimes be. He had just though Rath was mad. Now he was beginning to see that the whole race might be a little crazy. Because apparently, they were at war with everything. Did they just wake up one day and decide that the universe needed their hand in violence? Or had something _made_ the Irkens bristle into a new era of blood, strife and death?

Dib rested against the back of his command chair. Luckily he did have one other option, slender though it was. He had not thought of considering it up till now, but he did not wish to go anywhere near Irk and get blown to little bits.

"Blue, locate Irken Rath."

"Locating..."

He was prepared for it to take time. The ship's radar would now tirelessly search for Rath's starship signature, but to do so it would have to fight through vast distances and through radiation and planet interferences that had atmospheres that produced their own winds and noise.

"Keep me posted, Blue."

"Yes, Captain."

Very often his eyes would accidently trail down to the baby curled up in the sling. He could not help but stroke his head, or his arm that was dangling from the cloth.

"Pak, huh? Blue just said it was a computer. I guess it's not meant to be removed. I suppose I'll just have to ask Rath for more information on it."

Well, this smeet was out like a light, and Dib couldn't blame him after that traumatic experience in the washing up basin.

He took Zim all the way back to his private quarters and into the bedroom. Then he slipped the little thing out of the sling and into his clean, soft basket. Zim did not stir this time, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest did not alter. He was about as soporific as one could get, and Dib felt that he could get away with leaving him for a time while he went to check on the engine room and cold storage.

Back to being alone, with no assuring weight tethered to his chest, he went back to work with his solitary old comrade: the flashlight.

"Blue, give me a reading on the oxygen levels."

"Yes, Captain. Oxygen levels are at 22.9%."

"What's the temperature inside the living quarters?"

"21 degrees Celsius."

"And the outside hull temperature?"

"Minus 270.45 degrees Celsius, Captain."

Dib could not even imagine that sort of cold. It was a cold that vaporised flesh: the enamel on teeth. The hull had to be of great integrity to endure that constant hellish cold, _and_ the resulting fire upon planet re-entry. So it was a constant battle against the elements to keep the inside of the ship warm enough for biological life to flourish. If the heating system failed, the cold would sink in, faster than winter, and freeze every surface, every nook and cranny until everything was entombed in ice.

To keep the heating system from working too hard, Dib had sections of the ship 'warmed' up periodically, while his living quarters had the heat regularly. The lower decks and the cargo hold weren't so well 'heat' maintained, and Dib shared out the heat just enough to keep the decks from freezing over.

It was hard work for a single person. There was so much all the time that had to be shared out, deviated and portioned. He was the sole captain, mechanic, onboard navigator and pilot. And it often scared him to think of what might happen if two things were to go wrong on his ship, and he could only ever be at one place, at one time.

There was a groan, and a soft clanking tap off to the far bulkhead, where the deck turned into a sharp corner and into engineering. Dib froze where he had ducked at a floor panel, and shone his torch light in the direction of the sound. His light accosted the darkness, chasing back the clinging shadows, but all he saw was the metal grid of the interior hull, the gangway of the deck, and the shiny black bulkheads.

"H-Hello?" He called.

The demons were crawling back to their usual positions in his head.

 _Could be noises coming from the engine._ He thought. The engine was a hungry, noisy tyrant, that much was true.

The ship wasn't even that big compared to many he had come across, but it was big enough to play out ideas and twist his paranoia into something malefic.

"Blue... can you..."

There was a little tap on his leg.

Dib spooked so high that he swore his scythe of hair touched the ceiling.

He was about to blast it to the far corridor, scared shitless, when his wide, startled eyes fell upon the smeet. Zim was standing on the grating of the deck, looking up at him out of his large, ethereal eyes of delicate pinks and reds. He had his fingers in his mouth, and he was sucking on them. He was still wearing his fluffy and cosy blue and white polka dot pyjamas.

Dib staggered backwards, sweaty from the scare he just had. He pressed a hand to his forehead. "Zim? What the hell? How'd you find me?" The smeet just went on gazing wistfully up at him. "You're supposed to be sleeping! I could have swatted you! Be more careful next time!"

He tried to get angry.

And he couldn't.

"Well," he said, feeling a tad bit sheepish for having a go at a mute, "at least you're not crying and you haven't sweated through your new clothes."

He was pretty far from the sleeping quarters, but Zim had seemingly found him with little to no trouble, even though he had not been awake when Dib did his rounds. But he could only just walk. It was like he knew the mechanics of walking, with all the awkward experiences of a newborn. He stumbled here and there, bumping his knees on the floor like a spindly fawn, only to crank back up again. It was if his brain knew the logistics and wanted to walk, but his gross motor skills had yet to catch up with this same bit of knowledge.

Dib supposed this was what mothers and fathers felt like, when they'd tucked their little tyke into bed so that they could sit and watch TV, only, ten minutes later, the tyke would be up again, careening for attention and _not_ sleeping.

"Come on, back to bed."

He reached down and tried to grab him. Zim ducked to the left, fell, and scrambled up again, just beyond Dib's reach.

"No more games, sweetie. Back to bed, before you go and hurt yourself."

Zim tried to run away, but really all he ended up doing was getting tangled up in his own legs. He fell onto the hard metal of the deck, his legs not coherently obeying.

Dib grabbed him and plopped the smeet in his arms. Zim at once hooked his little fish-hook claws into his shirt again. He was starting to make little holes in the fabric, of which Dib did not approve of.

"You're going to be troublesome, I know you are." He said as he strode back up the deck and towards the personal dorm. Once he had reached the bedroom, tired of going back and forth, he plonked Zim back in his basket and eased out his hooks for claws out of his shirt. One of the teddies he had bought for him had been thrown out. He grabbed it and eased it beside the smeet as he tucked him in again.

 _What could have happened, so early in your life that made you become a mute?_

It was a question worth pursuing, but now was not the time. He would get the tablet out later, and try to discover more about Zim before he passed him over to another Irken. But this selective muteness only further proved Zim's intelligence, if he could speak that was and there was nothing wrong with his throat, and it might explain that something bad must surely have happened for the runt to be this... _withdrawn_. And withdrawn was the right word. For Zim had no passion to be with the other smeets in that glass box and he did not wish to take part in much unless promoted to do so. And he had cried and cried and cried.

"Look, I'll be back soon," Dib said in a half-hearted promise, "there are still some things I have to check. Now go to sleep, and no fussing."

It was like something out of that old movie he had watched as a kid. 'Lady and the Tramp,' was it?: when Lady, as a puppy, kept getting out of her basket and up to the bedroom to join her new human owners. Because, as soon as Dib's back was turned, Zim was out of the basket once again on wobbly legs, following him like a baby goose.

Dib pretended that he hadn't noticed, and as such, ignored the smeet trailing along behind him.

 _He'll get bored, and tired, and go back to bed on his own._ Was Dib's adamant conclusion. He didn't know how to be a father, even for a day, and decided that the cold, distant approach was best. After all, Zim was looking for attention, and if he didn't get it, he'd surely go back to bed and sleep.

What he had yet to learn, was that Zim suffered from demons too.

Everywhere Dib went, his tiny shadow loyally followed with the dainty tap-tap of the Irken's bare feet on the metal grating. Whenever the human stopped to look at something with his flashlight, like a circuit board or a switch, Zim stopped too, waiting silently until his father started moving on again. This continued for several minutes, and then ten minutes until Dib started trying to hide from him. But Zim could not be fooled. He found the human time and time again. He could see in the dark, it seemed, for Dib had hidden down a tight dark space between bulkheads with his flashlight off, and still the smeet stood out in the lit deck before the bulkheads, waiting for Dib to give up and come out. When Dib did emerge, Zim giggled sweetly. He thought it was a game.

Dib crouched before the smeet.

"You're not making it easy, you know. I gotta work. It's not easy, running this ship."

Astonishingly, Zim went to open his little mouth, as if he might speak, when Blue cut in from the intercom system above them: "Irken Rath's stellar warship the _Hazmat_ has been located on planet Kinyra, approximately 1 solar system away. He is in the Aggros system, in Irken territory."

That was where Dib had been heading to anyway, for Irk was in that solar system. But he didn't like getting any closer to a war zone than he had to. "Blue, what is planet Kinyra?"

"A luxury planet for the rich and frivolous. It is owned by the Irken Empire, but it is still freely allowed to commerce with its customers. Its new regiment is not yet as tight as some others."

Dib stood up straight and headed to the command bridge. When he got there, he brought up a new holographic display that showed him the Aggros system. His ship, _Blue Thunder,_ was just a blinking, blue dot on the periphery of the system. His planned course to Irk was still mapped out, shining like a silver rope as it joined from his ship to a pink planet in the solar system.

"Blue, please divert ship to new co-ordinates." He started punching in Kinyra's location.

He could imagine Rath going there for some entertainment. He liked to spend. Usually the merchant Irken liked to open his shop on distant worlds where rich customers paid big, so that Rath could splash his earnings on extravagant purchases such as drugs and new weapon. He was also a bit of a gambler. Rath usually won too. He was a great mathematician who could see through the random throw of the dice, or the draw of the deck. Every card ever played or discarded, he remembered.

"The diversion will cost 4 gigatons of fuel. Do you wish to proceed?" Asked Blue.

"Yes. Proceed with the diversion."

He wondered what Rath would say or do, when he came, presenting him with a baby. He had a feeling Rath would not be impressed. For he was used to the solitary life like Dib was, coming and going wherever he pleased with no attachments.

His ship changed to a new course. Even turning in space cost fuel and energy.

Zim had caught up to him. He waddled onto the bridge, actively taking an interest in all that he saw. His antennas started to reflexively bow up and down as he lifted up his chin to see the giant console and instruments that Dib worked with. The buttons attracted him the most, for they were glowing in so many different colours.

He tried to reach for the console, even standing onto his tip-toes.

Zim whinged when he could get no closer and to further add to his baby frustrations, he delivered a nasty sneeze.

"Can't keep away, can you, Zim?"

Acquiescing to the smeet's demands, Dib picked him up, still feeling his ribs through the soft padding of the pyjama top. Then he set him on the console towards the front so that Zim could see the long, rectangular window depicting the ship's current trajectory through space. Beyond the holographic map and charted territory and into the hypnotic darkness were the most beautifully austere star systems that intertwined and sprawled in great long spirals for millions of miles in every corner that Zim could see. It was like watching tiny, twinkling crystal ice shards of dust. The darkness did all it could to belittle and devour these glowing stars, but the giant all-consuming black only seemed to make them glow all the more.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Dib said in lost wonder. "I have an observation deck. I sit there, most days when my jobs are done, just sitting there, staring at the stars. No wonder the Egyptians were so fascinated by them. There is no other majesty quite as stunning as this."

Zim seemed to lean against his hands, looking up at the constellations with unconcealed delight. A shooting star, as bold as a firework, sprung past the bridge window, causing the smeet to squeak in excitement.

Dib smiled a sweet, sad little smile. He was going to miss the little thing.

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 **Dib07:** Again, I'd love to know your thoughts! Thanks for reading and hopefully enjoying!


	6. Complexities

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be going home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet slowly becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against those who want all defectives dead.

 **Warnings:**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. Alternative Universe.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

 **The story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Sin Hogar/tenebrio. The picture is owned by her. Please do not use/burrow without her or my permission. Thanks for reading! ^^**

* * *

 **AN:**

This here DOUBLE update is for **Rocky Rooster** (I know, took me LONG enough! Haha!) and **Nonrealistic Barrier!** This chapter is just... swings and roundabouts so they say. The next chapter's much more PLOT THICK!

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 **Boxy**

Hi there Boxy! Dib is pretty mixed up, isn't he? He wants what's best for the abandoned smeet, and is frightened of the responsibility. At the same time he does want to keep Zim, but is afraid of what kind of future the Irken will have, growing up with a human. And then, could you imagine taking that dear smeet back to Earth? Ooh that's a toughie!

 **RhiannonsaurusRex **

This chapter was written under your fun-loving guidelines my dear reader! I just hope it comes to your standards, and that you have much fun and amusement reading this! I sure found it fun at the time; one last loving chapter of these two dorks before things get a little more serious! I have to say, I do selfishly love writing and shoving in all these dorky sci-fi elements, as well as writing about smeets and reluctant father's-to-be! It's such a pleasant switch from my usual dark stories! And yes, Zim has latched onto Dib with a jealous fierceness indeed! Which was what Dib was afraid of, as this separation will be tough to follow through when the time comes, if of course such a thing were to arise. How could a sane person let go of such a little, sweet thing that's finally able to live without its fellowship of war and hatred? Ah! Irkens and their evil legacy! Anyway my friend, I shall let this chapter do the talking, and I hope, just hope you enjoy it and its following chapter!

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 **Chapter Six: Complexities**

Dib was in the kitchen area, sitting at the table, eating a microwaveable meal from a ration pack. He had many of these ration packs, and each one was as bland and as tasteless as the next. They were good because they were a source of nutrition and minerals when he had little chance of obtaining it elsewhere unless he was really brave and bought alien food from alien markets that could very well react badly to his body. And the ration packs were meant to last decades.

It was a pity they tasted like shit.

Zim, unable to be trusted, for he was gaining the ability to walk with almost tenacious distinction, had been imprisoned by a makeshift playpen that Dib had easily cobbled together with old bits of wood. It was too high for Zim to climb out of, but Dib could still easily pick him out of it. Each wall was made of wooden bars that were soft yet strong. Zim felt these pillars with his claws, bumbling along each wall on rebellious legs as if determining if there was a weakness in its design to exploit. Then he sat on one of his blankets that Dib had laid out for him, and played with his toys. But he didn't just play. he went along, feeling each toy, and exploring its design, its surface, and its texture as if he was still getting to grips with metals such as wood, metal, soft fur and plastics. But he grew tired of the toys and watched Dib eat his bland, boring meal at the table. Dib paused, his fork halfway to his mouth when he saw Zim watching from the playpen.

When Zim saw that he had his attention, he started putting his claws towards his mouth, as if he was mimicking Dib's behaviour with his food.

Dib seemed to get the gist of Zim's actions. It wasn't easy, remembering how very smart this little baby was, even if he knew next to nothing on the world and how it functioned.

"No, Zim. You can't eat this stuff. It's not for you."

The tablet was in his playpen. He reached for it amongst the toys, and started drawing with the stylus. Like before, his fine motor skills were better adapted than his gross motor skills, but he was not without his mistakes. Several times he tried to write something, only to puff with frustration, sometimes squealing. A couple of times he gave up, and threw the tablet down on the blanket, folding his arms in anger – a gesture he must have learned from Dib. Dib found that he folded his arms a lot, without even noticing, and here Zim was, copying that very same gesture.

Then, as Dib turned back to his less than appealing meal, Zim picked up the tablet and started again.

Eventually he held it up for Dib's inspection.

On the screen on the tablet were the words: ' _Eat'_

Dib smiled and shook his head. "No, sweetie. Not for you. You've already eaten. In another hour maybe."

Zim frowned, and then wrote something else. This took him even longer, perhaps as much as five minutes.

' _Eat'_

' _You'_

Dib laughed. "You, eat? You mean? I am eating, yes."

Zim repeated the same gesture as before, by placing a claw towards his mouth.

 _I want some._

Dib left his seat at the table and knelt over the wall of the playpen. He produced a biscuit instead from a little packet in his pocket. He unpeeled the plastic wrap and gave it to Zim. "Here. Try this instead."

When he tried to give it to the smeet, the baby just squealed angrily instead. Dib smiled. "You don't want it? You just want what I have, is that it?" He offered the biscuit again. "It's good. You'll like it."

When Dib was close enough, Zim reached up and snatched his glasses off him. The smeet had to stand up to perform his cheeky manoeuvre, and when he had this mystic object in his claws, he wobbled back to the middle of the playpen, playing with them. He tried planting them on his own face, as if these glasses were magical, but they were five sizes too big for him, and he had no nose to give the glasses purchase, so they fell off his face.

Dib stepped into the playpen and knelt down by the smeet, dinner forgotten. With one whisk of his hand he had the glasses back into his possession.

Zim clambered up onto his lap and experimentally poked the human's nose with a claw. Dib flinched back a little, smiling. "Yes, Zim. That's my nose. Be gentle."

Zim placed a claw on his own face, trying to feel for a nose there as well. He was perplexed. His eyes were wide, his antennae rising up in curiosity.

"No sweetie," said Dib, "you don't have a nose like me."

Then the human's smile quickly dropped clean away. He had a suddenness of terrible thought: what if Zim was starting to think that he was a human being, and not an Irken? Animal babies had this alien complexity all the time when they were raised by human parents. They started seeing their own kind as aliens, as they believed they were human, and as a result, had a terrible time integrating back into the wild. Usually they all died, hence why a lot of animal rehabilitation programs changed tactic, with humans disguising themselves as animals to try and prevent this.

Zim was smart, and was probably thinking himself to be a human far quicker than Dib had ever anticipated.

"You're an Irken, sweetie." Dib said. "You're not human."

Zim sniffed, and looked him up and down, not understanding.

"I have hair. You have these... antenna-things." He pointed out, not sure if this was getting through to the baby. "And you are green. That makes us very, very different."

Zim felt one his antenna, but no new recognition or understanding came upon him. He did not seem to be getting it.

Dib put his glasses back over his nose. "You're such a little pickle. I have consoles and buttons and crap everywhere that I need to clean up if I'm going to have you running around. So, while I spruce the place up a little, you can watch some TV. How's that for fun?"

He thought that TV was an excellent source of mental stimulation, something Zim obviously needed, for already Dib felt like the smeet was running circles around him.

The only problem was that Dib had a wide collection of DVDs and Blu-Rays, but none of them were of children material. He had few Disney movies, and nothing for babies. Everything he had was already recorded on a DVD, for he would get no TV satellite reception from Earth to broadcast programs for growing tots.

Dib got out of the playpen to clean away his cutlery and food, and Zim ran to the far wall of the playpen, worried that the human was about to abandon him. He fell over in his clumsy haste, and he hit the side of his head on the wall of the pen. He sat up, feeling that bumpy, hot spot on his head for a delayed moment before he then cringed into tears. His beautiful eyes filled up with blue tears, and he curled up at the pain.

Dib paused in what he was doing, for he had been stacking dishes in the dishwasher when he heard the smeet's belligerent moans. He turned round to see what was wrong, and at first he was unsure. He hated being unsure. Because, when it came to babies, he was forever, eternally unsure, and that had inevitably led him to that accident with Zim and the basin of water. But when he looked a little more closely, frowning as he stepped lightly over to the playpen, he saw the neat little dark bruise rising on Zim's left temple.

Luckily there were plenty of little medical units spread across each deck, and there was one in the kitchen, in case of a small isolated fire breaking out, or in case of burns or cuts. He opened the medical cabinet and retrieved plaster bandages and a bottle of salve.

"It's okay. You just had a little bump is all."

For it was really all it was.

"You keep falling over, don't you? Is that what you did? Fall and bang your head?"

The smeet nodded, one clawed hand now cupped over the rising brand of bruising. No doubt his PAK thing would heal it, if the smeet had the energy to spare. But that make take a few minutes. Better to treat it now, and get Zim to calm down. It was also an easy way to procure some trust.

Back in the playpen, Dib tried to apply the salve, and the plaster, but Zim cowered, and violently too. He had no idea what Dib was trying to do to him, and the human was beginning to suspect: as he had come to suspect quite a lot over the brief course of days with the smeet; that Zim still acutely remembered his abusive past. there was little to now suggest what had happened. All of his old injuries, such as the bruises on his ribs, hip and neck, were gone, the mysterious PAK having tended to them all. And Zim would not speak of what might have gone on, choosing instead to close up his voice, therefore shutting himself away. For Zim was scrambling away, as if Dib meant him harm.

These little clues began to string together.

Every time Zim did something wrong, and hurt himself, or, like when he had destroyed Dib's feather pillow, he had cowered almost to the point of screaming, as if a testy punishment would duly follow. He must have quickly learnt that if he didn't do something right, he would get beaten.

It was not an easy thing to imagine: the Halycon seller, or his little band of Nox friends, hurting such a helpless little newborn for self-pleasure or because it gave them a feeling of empowerment.

"Easy, easy little one!" Dib tried to implore in the gentlest, sweetest voice he could muster, "I'm not going to hurt you! I just want to make you better! This plaster is good! Good!"

Zim had scouted to the far corner, looking sorry for himself. The bruise was quite a dandy one: swelling a little to form a rounded bump. When Dib was a foot away from him, he held out the plaster in a surrendering gesture, and pretended to place it on his own head.

"See? It covers up the hurt. Makes it feel better."

Zim tentatively prodded his hurting bruise and squeaked in surprised pain.

"Touching it will hurt too. Don't do that." Dib fatherly admonished. He approached the tiny newborn again, and gently rubbed some salve over the dark green bruise. He hoped this would incur no new, horrible reactions like the water in the basin had.

He waited a few beats, and Zim shrewdly touched the paste of the salve with a claw, then brought it to his invisible nose slits, and sniffed it. He made a face. Then he tried to taste it.

"No! Not good for eating!" Dib said, taking his claw away from his open mouth. Zim shrieked this time.

He rubbed the excess paste off his claw and then removed the sticky peel from the plaster and smoothed it over the bump.

Dib leaned back, regarding his work.

Zim sat up, inspecting the plaster over his bruise with an explorative hand.

"There. Much better. Bandages are meant to help little bumps and cuts." Dib tried to explain, not sure if he was ever getting through to the smeet. If someone had come in and called him the 'not-sure-parent,' he would not have disagreed. Everything he felt that he was doing was purely experimental. He was the type of man that liked to be sure of himself, and Zim was about as chaotic as a tornado: for you could never quite plot its course, or its temperamental behaviour.

 _But,_ Dib had to remind himself another countless times _: he is just a helpless infant. He is trying to learn about me too, about himself, and about this ship he's found himself in. His world is huge, and he's struggling to take it all in._

When Dib scooped him out of the playpen, he realized he was devoting all of his time to this thing pretty much, even during all the times when he thought he wasn't.

Again he was worried about getting attached all over again, and he didn't want Zim to start thinking he was the Irken's parent, even if he was failing at it. But keeping himself emotionally and physically distanced from the smeet was getting harder and harder to do. Even while he lay awake in his bed, hearing the little thing squeakily snoring or sucking his thumb in his cobbled crib or box, his thoughts were never far from the smeet. He'd think about general maintenance, and what the next day's work loads would entail, and he would think about finding Rath, and how pleased his dad might actually be when they finally get re-acquainted again after a seven-year long absence, but, periodically, his mind would fall into that whirlpool again of the smeet, and he'd fancy himself a father for a moment, toying with the idea, and finding that he liked it a bit too much. But he'd already proven himself unworthy of being a father by dumping the little thing in a basin full of water that corrosively reacted to Zim's flesh. He had not looked this up any further, believing that all Irkens suffered this strange affliction with water.

The planet Kinyra was not far off now; he'd reach its orbit in about a day.

Then he and the smeet would finally part ways.

It would be hard at first. Dib was already anticipating the pain of a final farewell.

It was just a shame that he could not reach Kinyra any quicker to get it over with, and to shorten the length of time Zim was here, getting his own Irken identity mixed up.

He carried Zim into the entertainment lounge. There was a plush array of seating, and he planted the smeet on one of them that faced the large overhead TV screen. The smeet had captured one of Dib's fingers in his claws, and was less inclined to let go. In his other arm was the blue plush dog.

Dib curtly unstrung the claws from his index finger. "It's okay. I'm going to put on a little movie for you. You'll like it, I think. Then you can have some dinner."

Zim touched his plaster again, and Dib tucked his hand down.

"Don't touch. Let it heal." The human said demurely.

Zim obeyed. For about three seconds.

Dib viewed his massive library of DVDs. They were all meticulously inserted into their horizontal slots that towered towards the ceiling and around the TV itself: wreathed in movies of every genre. There were horror movies, sci-fi collections, chick flicks and satirical comedies. Adventure epics and a few predicable romances. Whatever he was in the mood for, really. There was not a single movie he hadn't seen, and his favourites he had seen many times during his long, tedious voyage to unexplored regions of space. He didn't watch the sci-fi movies very much. Too many disasters and monsters to deal with, amongst the subconscious demons he had piled back there already. He did not fancy breeding more, or potentially jinxing his ship by watching something like _'Event Horizon.'_

He saw _Spielberg's_ movie _E.T_ and was about to slip it out of its slot, when he realized Zim may not like the latter half of the movie very much, so he put it back.

Dib ran his finger over the collection of titles, ignoring the slight film of dust gathering on his fingertip.

He selected one, and opened the DVD case.

 _Jack and the Beanstalk._

He inserted the shiny disc into the drive and stood back, watching the black TV come to life. Zim stopped fidgeting with his new plaster, and looked up, his tender eyes riveted on the screen. A shudder went through him: either one of fright, memory or something else. Then the FBI warning came up, and finally, the movie itself began to start, panning in on a poor little farm. Zim started sucking on one of his fingers, intently interested. His eyes reflected the characters as they moved on the screen.

Dib smiled. "Yeah. This should do. Now I can get back to do some work. You be good, Zim. I'll be back to check on you in ten minutes." He said this, as if Zim had a perfect concept of time, when really, he had no idea.

Now, Dib did not go far. Ideally he stayed close enough so that he could hear the movie, and he had an intercom system that could work like a baby monitor so he could listen to the room, and he had basic CCTV cameras on the bridge. So, in this way, he was able to keep an eye and ear on Zim while he did a perfunctory job trying to suss everything Zim could reach. Most of the consoles were too high for the newborn to reach, but there were tool cabinets and array systems where Zim could pull open a drawer and have access to dangerous tools, wires and drills. Dib had to baby-proof most of his ship from about two feet high.

Zim was a weak little baby who still seemed poorly, so it was doubtful he would get into heaps of trouble. But, just to be on the safe side, Dib began to move tools and drawers and anything away from the floor space. Grills that were loose he screwed in again with the power drill, and any loose flooring he quickly repaired and strengthened. The lower decks to engineering he promptly sealed off, locking them down so that they would open only if he keyed in a password he had had to quickly invent. For engineering was deadly. There were hydraulics down there, pistons that could crush a newborn with ease, and cooling fans that whipped around at 100 miles per hour, and were big enough to suck in a dog. There were oil pits, and chemicals and radioactive materials. His ship was a deadly thing of death if not understood, and so Dib sealed off all these areas, and baby-proofed the living quarters and more homely decks of the ship.

It wasn't easy work, and before long Dib was sweating through the shirt that he was wearing until dark bands appeared on his back and under his armpits.

He had been working so religiously, barely lifting up his head to check the time on his wristwatch or barely registering that he was thirsty that he at first did not hear Zim's croaky wailing. It was only when he heard a particularly shrill squeal that he stopped from his work to listen, cocking his head to the side and thinking that it was just the toil of the ship, and the squeal of the hydraulics down below, as was often the case. The ship, forever toiling through space, was never really quiet, especially when it had so much to maintain.

Living with another that made biological noises was still a strange, new experience for Dib.

So, when he heard a repeat of the earlier cry, Dib straightened and rushed to one of his CCTV cameras that showed him the layout of the entertainment room from the northern side of the room, above the TV. He could not see the smeet, because in the security screen he was hiding behind one of the sofa cushions, crying weakly.

It was bad enough that he was not used to babies at all, let alone ones that cried frequently.

Abandoning his tidying up, Dib hurried back to the entertainment lounge, which took him nearly five whole minutes, as he had to descend an elevator and go across nearly a whole deck in the living quarters to get to the room.

When he got there, he saw nothing obvious that was wrong. The TV was still playing out the _Jack and the Beanstalk_ movie. Jack was at the market, trading his cow for a three measly beans. The room wasn't dark, as he had left the lights on, and other than the movie, everything else was quiet and serene. But the smeet was stilling hiding behind a cushion, miserably wailing. Dib approached the sofa and pulled away the cushion Zim was hiding behind.

"What's the matter?" He asked softly, curious and patient in the face of Zim's confusing distress. "Is the film really _that_ bad? Or have you filled your diaper again?"

Face wet with tears, Zim pointed up at the TV screen as if the problem was obvious.

Dib turned and looked idly up at the screen, not really paying the movie any real attention.

Nothing seemed amiss. The boy was exchanging the cow, and receiving the magic beans from an old man. But, when Zim continued to burble with tears, he took another look, almost chalking it up to infantile distress because Zim had never seen moving pictures before.

Then he saw the pigs.

They were in pens, or were being herded up by farmers by the dozens, because there was always a lot of pigs being bought and sold at markets as was the norm among other livestock. But the Halycon had been a pig, hadn't he? He had the snout, the warty face and naked skin, even though he was as blue as a summer lake and not pink, like normal pigs.

Zim was reacting to the pigs, and perhaps to the market environment; an environment that was still fresh in his mind.

Perhaps in a way, he was remembering, and reliving the terror on or even before Flaxier 19 with the Halycon seller. And as such, he had an intense fear of pigs.

Dib switched the movie off immediately, and he watched the screen fall to black.

Zim peered anxiously up at him, still crying. One clawed hand was rubbing his left shoulder up and down, and he was rocking himself slightly to and fro.

"I'm sorry, little guy. Guess you didn't like that movie very much, huh?" He gathered the baby into his arms, and, without meaning to, he kissed him on the top of his head, beside the plaster. The feeling had come naturally to him, and he immediately felt foolish straight after, as if he should have known better. But, his gentle, accidental kiss stopped Zim's complaints on the instant.

"You don't like pigs?" He asked, cuddling him against his chest.

Zim shook his head and opened his mouth. It almost looked like he was about to speak: to utilize that rusty little voice, and Dib often wondered what his voice would sound like: what tones and cadences it would have. But, the gathered courage, or bewilderment fell apart in seconds before a single note was uttered, and Zim closed his mouth again.

"That's okay." Dib said gently, not wishing Zim to feel discouraged. "You'll speak when you're ready. Maybe when we speak to Rath, he can get you to a doctor to examine you. Maybe you _can't_ speak? Or maybe you just need a stable environment, with your own kind? I bet that would make you happier."


	7. Rath

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary:**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be going home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet slowly becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against those who want all defectives dead.

 **Warnings:**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. Alternative Universe.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

 **The story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Sin Hogar/tenebrio. The picture is owned by her. Please do not use/burrow without her or my permission. Thanks for reading! ^^**

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 **AN:**

This is perhaps my favourite chapter of the _Discount Smeet_ thus far. This is for all of you. And I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all Irkens as well. Be they fictional or otherwise. P.S I fell in love with old Rath super hard. And this is again from someone who doesn't do OCs. Yes. It's official. I am a hypocrite.

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Rath**

Kinyra wasn't one of those dirty, poor backwater planets like Flaxier 19 was. It was a cosmopolitan place of trade, commercialism and business. The Irken Empire had no doubt bought or conquered it to reap these profits, and use the planet's business as a reliable source of income for their expensive warships and gear. As it was, the planet was filled with all manner of creatures, and there were a few Irkens too, standing off to one side, dressed to the nines in battle armour. And they carried weapons in their holsters or in their ruthless claws. They were there no doubt placed strategically to keep the peace, like the police on Earth, but here, they were a hardened, cruel icon: a reminder to the populace that _they_ were the ones in control. Step out of line, and you deal with an Irken who's seen about as much bloodshed as the God of War himself.

Dib docked in the city of Emporium, and all the major buildings were covered in Irken flags of red and black.

He felt nervous being here, as he did on all crowded planets that held a certain, unseen menace to it. He wore his translating headpiece and he had his gun tucked away in his leg holster. There was not much else he could do to stay safe.

As for Zim, he had bundled the sneezing baby into one of his blankets, and carried him in his arms. On his shoulder was a satchel, full of Zim's stuff that Rath would need.

"Okay, Zim, here we go." He left the ship, locked it by applying pressure on his wrist device, and braved the crowds. Everything was in pink neon lights, as if he was in nightclub alley from the eccentric days of 1960. Aliens of royal status wearing robes gathered in groups, laughing and talking in their low garbles. Anamorphic animals that looked a lot like bipedal antelope came along the clean metal runways that were the roads carrying trays of little mini drinks, like cocktails.

Having all of his senses blasted all at once, Dib wasn't sure which way to turn. He had never been here before, and had had no inclination to visit the place. Zim peeked out of his blankets, watching with dubious fascination at the aliens coming and going.

The shops catered to all and every sin out there.

To the naked eye, the shop signs were all in strange symbols and etch marks, but when Dib dropped the eye piece over his left glass lens, the translator deciphered the symbols into English.

There was a _Rinuah Factory_ shop full of various poisons and exotic drugs and how to apply them.

There were meat shops, whore houses (there was lots and lots of those) and gambling arcades heaving with customers.

The dizzying smells kept hitting Dib, that and the noise of the crowd. He could smell perfume, blood, sweat, and the exotic aroma of whatever drug had been ejected into the vicinity.

Every so often there was a break in the massive throng of aliens, and Dib would glimpse a soldier Irken in the midst, standing boldly in the crowd with a weapon in its claws. The crowd was so aware of them, and so intimidated, that they passed around the lone soldier like a river parting around a stone.

Dib tried to keep well clear of them.

Zim started to whine and sniffle, leaning into Dib closely in fear. He did not like the crowds and the flush of colour and whirl of noise. No doubt it was making him think of Flaxier 19, and the Nox merchant who had no doubt beaten him.

The human patted his PAK gently. "I'm here, Zim, I'm here."

Dib heard a loud slashing _smack_ through the air close by. He tried to peer through the mass of aliens, for many of them towered over him like moving trees. Much to his dismay, through a gap in the crowd, he saw a soldier Irken whipping a trio of Vortians. They were all stripped naked, and patches of skin on their bodies were peeling away, revealing bloodied marks. The Irken holding the whip had them tethered to a rope, and all three Vortians were leashed to the rope. They wore collars, similar to what dogs wore. And they were on their hands and knees.

"Walk! Walk you filthy lowlifes!" The Irken had one eye: the other had been closed shut by a big, vertical scar. His eyes were a frosty, dark red.

He raised the whip again, and this time the naked prisoners did get up, and they hurried forwards, like trained animals. The whip came down on them anyway, stinging one across the shoulder. The struck Vortian went down, and the Irken went on whipping him.

Dib turned away, holding Zim tightly.

 _Good Lord, what am I doing here?_

The throng of aliens continued their duties of buying and selling and whoring, as if they were all collectively blind to the Vortians.

Another Irken came over; attracted by the bloodshed like a hungry wolf to a kill. He was one of the soldiers who had been patrolling the street.

"That's it! Let them have it!" Cried the newly arrived soldier as the one-eyed Irken continued to whip the Vortian to death. The other two huddled by their fallen comrade, tethered by their leashed collars.

Dib wanted to step in and shoot that one-eyed Irken dead. But if he did, he would doom himself, and doom his smeet. He wasn't sure how many soldiers there were, stalking the streets like Nazis, but they easily outnumbered him.

As if frightened of what he had heard, and remembering his own beatings, the smeet started to cry.

"Ooh shush, baby, shush..." He began to rock him, which seemed to mollify the smeet.

On the search he went, trying really hard to forget about the Vortian lying on the street, and to forget about the new crease lines of blood that were appearing beneath the violent duress of the whip, and the look of pleasure in the one-eyed Irken's leering visage.

He pushed his way through the crowd, both arms encircling the smeet with his satchel bouncing against his hip. About thirty minutes later, searching high and low, he saw Rath up on a balcony that belonged to a giant restaurant and entertainment complex, similar perhaps to the giant villas in Las Vegas.

Rath was entertaining guests it seemed. He always was a show-off who loved attention about as much as Dib loved gadgets.

To avoid going through the main entrance where no doubt he'd be stopped by reception or security, Dib made his way to the elevator that took him to the second floor. On distant, high-tech planets, there were no such things as 'stairs.' The overdependence on technology was ludicrous.

Rath was sitting at a glass table with his legs crossed; drinking what could only be alcohol. His wizard-like staff of twisted wood and ramrod metal was resting against his levitating chair. He was wearing his usual dusty cream robes that produced an ochre shine depending from what angle you looked at it. Dib suspected it carried magical properties for protection.

And Rath and the Irken female waitress were conversing in guttural Irken, which alternated from bird-like quips to growls. A whole complex sentence could be shortened to just a few clicks of the tongue. A single name could be issued with a purr or an inflection from the back of the throat.

His headset activated, and he could hear the conversation in smooth English.

"Must we always have this argument?" Rath was divulging, his chin resting on one clawed hand, while the other nursed his crystal drinking chalice. "You should know that I win almost every bet. I could gamble all of Irk and come away with more planets that a Starfleet can blow up."

"You'll lose big one day." The female Irken clicked back. "If I were you, I'd stay clear of the military division. I hear they're calling in every Irken they can lay a claw on. A big war is brewing, so they say, and they don't have time for those who gamble."

"A big war is always brewing." Rath lifted up his chalice and drank the whole lot down with one big swallow. "Another, please. With some rinuah. I can't sleep without it."

"Of course."

When she departed, Dib pressed forwards, feeling unwelcome. But Rath was alone, or near enough alone. For the balcony was filled with other guests. Most were sitting at tables, and there was a stage across from Rath, filled with dancing antelope-creatures. He stared at them for a moment, memorized at how funny they looked.

Rath seemed to stare into space for a singular moment, trapped in anxieties when his long, graceful antennae jolted all the way up. He turned sharply to lay hard crimson eyes at Dib. His wary sneer remained but a moment when he discovered who he was looking at, and at once his face brightened and his antennae bent forwards, fully engaged. "Dib? Dib human? Is that you? What on Irk are you doing way out here in the Aggros system? I know you're mad, my friend, but really?"

Dib offered an apologetic smile. "I'm so glad I could find you! Is there a place we can talk? In... in private?"

But it was too late. Zim edged out of his blankets, revealing his head and antennae. Rath and Zim looked at once another for an uneasy moment.

"Dib." Rath said, one hand now gripping the head of his staff, "What is that thing you have in your arms?"

"It's a smeet. An Irken baby. Have you not seen one before?"

Rath quickly dropped his steely gaze on the smeet and looked around furtively. Everyone else was busy sipping alcohol and shooting drugs up into their arms. The strange dancers continued to frolic on stage, and the waitresses were diligently serving.

"Hide it for Irk's sake!" Rath rasped bitterly, dropping his voice to a low drawl.

"Why?" But he did what Rath asked, and covered Zim completely with the blanket.

"Why have you come?" The albino ignored Dib's question and demanded one of his own.

"I came to give you this baby! I didn't know what else to do! You are the only Irken I know!"

This did not seem to settle Rath. In fact it just made him look more incensed. His antennae, once raised to salute Dib, had now flattened right down. His oval eyes, as deep and as red as the colour of blood, narrowed as if he was spying for enemies in the happy crowd of drunken customers.

"Follow me. I know a place where we can talk."

He drained whatever drop of syrupy alcohol was left in the empty chalice, and stood up from his levitating chair. With the staff managing his every step, he walked across the balcony to the elevator: his cloak billowing out behind his shoulders like little furled wings.

Dib followed with growing reluctance.

"Stay close to me." Rath said, "And don't look at the Irken Elites. To do so will only incur suspicion."

Dib nodded.

Once the elevator had touched down, Rath exited it and headed on down the street. Dib kept to his side, holding Zim closely to his chest.

They went down an alleyway between two technological buildings that were covered in tall alien radar instruments. The radars looked a lot like giant kitchen forks, but covered in furry gadgetry and blinking blue lights. On the way there, they passed an Irken chieftain who had been standing on a curb, watching a flock of customers queuing outside a food shop. Holstered across his shoulders above his PAK was a plasma shotgun.

When he heard Rath and the human approach, he spun round to accost them.

Dib instinctively slowed his step, and went slightly behind Rath as he held his little bundle protectively.

"Here again, White Leper?" The Chieftain creased out a dirty smirk. "Spreading your diseases? I'm having you reported. You aren't supposed to be here. Stand down at once!"

Rath's answer was calm, and in his calmness he sounded formidable. And unshaken. "When the Tallest banned me from the Irken quadrant, she failed to state _which_ quadrant. Now stand aside. I have business to attend to."

At this, the chieftain unleashed a deep, threatening growl. His green lips slid back to reveal his jagged, zipper-like teeth. "How dare you speak to a commanding officer with such insolence? I shall have you detained and deported back to Irk! Surrender or die!" He went to release his plasma shotgun, and simultaneously these long, metal constructs slid out of his PAK like nightmarish spidery limbs.

Rath picked up his staff and slammed its point into the ground at the chieftain's boots. A mysterious silvery light cackled and sparked outward from the staff's lowest rune, filling the air with alien static that made Dib's stand on end. The chieftain, from his impetus, fell into Rath as his PAK fizzled with silver electricity. He hammered home on the touch-pad of the shotgun, but the weapon was stun-locked as well.

Rath pushed the now limp and lifeless chieftain to one side. "It'll last but a moment. Keep calm and you'll be fine." And then he continued on his way, stepping _over_ the chieftain. Dib stared down for a moment at the Irken chieftain whose eyes had rolled back into his head. He lay like a drunk who had just passed out.

He quickly went to check on Zim, and lifted a corner of blanket to see the same strange silver sparks running up and down the smeet's PAK as well. The smeet was limp, and unconscious.

He ran to keep up with Rath.

"What the hell was that? The baby's affected too! Stop! He could die!"

"No, no! That smeet of yours perfectly fine! It works a little like an EMP." Rath quickly explained, giving Dib a reassuring smile. "And it works only for a short duration. It stops any threats you see, in weapons and in PAKs. His life support will function as normal, but his cognitive abilities will be shot for awhile. It's fine, it's fine," he added when Dib was not convinced, "it's like a sedative. He'll wake in a few short minutes, not remembering what happened."

"But what the hell did you do? And how are you not affected?"

"Ah, trade secret, my human idiot! A smart Irken knows to keep his arsenal under lock and key, or everyone will learn, and nothing will be sacred."

"I thought that staff of yours just helped you walk?"

"A weapon with more than one purpose is a great weapon indeed." The albino returned with another impromptu smile.

Dib fell back, and Rath carried on ahead.

 _Shit. What am I getting myself into?_

He followed, keeping up easily. "I hope you're right. Zim better wake up without even a headache."

"Oh he will, he will! Besides," he said as he led Dib down into a mechanized tunnel bright with purple light that made Rath's robe glisten as if it was specked in tiny crystals, "I thought you were giving that thing to me? Why then do you pay it so much concern?"

"Because... because he's been through a lot."

"Ah, so have we all."

They kept on walking, and they passed a few other aliens, some with blotchy grey skin, and others much taller than they.

Rath entered a wooded area where the tree bark was red, and the leaves were a luminescent purple. The strange flora seemed to fill the backend of the busy streets, as rubbish and rundown housing would do for the elaborate gusto of human cities. Even so, Rath kept going. To Dib, the place looked overgrown, and left to go wild, which was unsettling. The main streets, and city for that matter, were sophisticated, clean and precise - almost to the point of sterilization. But there it was the opposite, and the planet's bizarre native wildlife was allowed to grow.

Amongst these trees, berry bushes and scattered foliage were half hidden statues: some so grossly entombed in vegetation that their original stone material barely showed through the dense, clinging green of nature. The statues were busts of noble looking aliens with bulbous crowns for heads, narrowed eyes and frog-like mouths. Some of these statues were life-sized, gracing the creatures they once depicted.

Dib wanted to ask a dozen questions, but only settled on one: "What is this place?"

Zim wasn't growing heavy in his arms at all, and seemed to be sleeping restfully. His head was tucked in the crook of Dib's arm, and his little sides were twitching up and down as he breathed. With no one around now, he let the blanket reveal Zim's head. He was suddenly torn at releasing this little baby, and giving it to another he barely knew.

When Rath answered, he kept his gaze ahead of them, and did not slow his dedicated pace. "This place used to be the Kababito shrine. Before the Irkens came to Kinyra, it was once owned by a peaceful, powerful race of aliens called the Kababito who were telepathically adept. They linked hands, and meditated for hours, days, some have said. And that, through their mind telepathy, they could talk with the Beyond. With the Gods."

"What happened to them?"

"The same that happens to every race the Irkens come across. They were eradicated. But before they were, the Irkens tortured and imprisoned them, laughing at the very _idea_ of religion, much less what it was about or did. These statues are all that remain of the Kababito. For no one comes to this place of red trees. We Irkens do not believe in ghosts, or gods, my mad human friend, but we do still sense a presence here, and it is not a friendly one."

"So... you're telling me... you Irkens slaughtered a bunch of friendly aliens to... to build luxurious cities on this planet?"

"Yes, that is correct. To build revenue for our war."

Dib slowed his pace. He felt truly lost now. He was surrounded thickly on all sides by giant, towering red trees. Their canopies of purple made him feel even more disorientated. "Should you be telling me this? Aren't you going to kill me now?"

Rath barked with laughter. Then he paused mid-step and offered Dib a wily look. "Yes, I really should, shouldn't I?" Then he looked back to the way he was going, through a path only he seemed to know, and continued on.

 _I'm putting a lot of trust in you, Rath. Don't disappoint me._

Dib crudely followed, stepping thickly through the bracken and fallen leaves.

At last they came to a half-demolished shrine. Two walls still stood, though barely. Bricks of metal had melted along the edges of these walls like the soft filling of a cake that had spent too long in the oven, and there was a scattering of ashen bone that was as black as coal at the base. The walls were huge, some six feet thick, and twenty feet high. The floor was once stone depicting mosaic patterns of alien figures. Now the stone was smitten with cracks, and what was left was being slowly covered up by black alien ivy.

"This was a Kababito shrine. A temple to their Gods." Rath said, stamping the butt of his staff on the stone. "No one comes here anymore. We are perfectly alone. Now, human child, explain all you can to me. And it had better be good."

Rath was such a strange contradiction: and he induced an emotional paroxysm that inflicted hope, trust, and doubt in Dib. He wanted to trust Rath, but there was always that scowl in his blood red eyes, and that dip of a tortured smile that always made Dib think that Rath was mocking him in some unspoken way. The way of the Irken was truly alien, and truly unknown to him. His antennae were raised, and he was grinning, as if flaunting his own powers somehow, his own command in the situation. What did the raised antennae mean? And his grin? He had attacked an Irken soldier, his own species! And wielded his staff like it was a weapon.

Now he was miles from _Blue Thunder_ , miles from anywhere, with an Irken who had the power to kill him. Lately, this little smeet had been putting him in a lot of situations he'd rather do without.

"I went to Flaxier 19, to buy cheap star ship fuel." Dib explained. "I came across a Nox merchant of Halycon breed. He was selling these smeets. And I could only afford the one."

Rath produced his left hand out of the curtains of his robe while the other gripped the staff, and he made a gesture with them. "Hand it over."

Dib had battled his way to just this very moment, of finally finding someone: someone with a better knowledge on smeets. He had sacrificed his own time, more fuel, and risked a lot coming here just to 'hand him over.' So it was ludicrous to do otherwise, right?

The thing was, Dib suddenly didn't want to hand him over. Rath's eyes were impossible to read. They were dark, and full of crimson cunning, and his antennae were still raised.

And he had a perfect set of claws.

It would not take much to kill a sickly smeet.

Why Irkens would be motivated to kill their own young begged the question, but Dib had begun to see just how unhinged and blood-hungry these creatures were.

"Please, don't hurt him." Was Dib's parting request, and he held Zim out like he was a loaf of bread. Rath took him just as the smeet was beginning to wake up. All silvery traces on his PAK had gone.

Dib held his breath, expecting Rath to do away with the baby, as Irkens apparently liked to do with all their little manageable problems before they rooted. So he was very mollified when Rath merely bounced the smeet up and down a few gentle times in his claws to access his weight and stature.

"Strange." Rath commented, and an idle look of puzzlement creased his perfectly cynical facade, "I've never seen a smeet wearing... diaper things before."

"He's incontinent and he's a mute, Rath. I believe it's from emotional trauma."

"A mute...?" Further perplexity stole over the white Irken's face, and one antenna dipped down, as if silently put a question mark on his thoughts.

"I... I was hoping to take him back to his family. His name is Zim."

"Zim, huh? Well, that's a darn shame; Irkens don't have families, human. A clan of warriors is the closest an Irken can ever have for a family unit. And this smeet you are carrying is sick and underweight. Only defectives are runts, with diseases. Their PAKs malfunction, and they cannot grow as fast as a healthy smeet with a sufficiently working PAK. They are underdeveloped, and can have later complications in life, if they are allowed to survive their first year."

Unceremoniously, Rath dumped him back into Dib's awaiting arms as if his evaluation of the smeet was complete.

The smeet was rubbing at his big, shiny eyes, his antennae wavering up and down to hear them. Dib protectively held him closely to his chest. What Rath said didn't make sense. Defectives? PAKs? Was it like having a corrupted file in your computer? Or worse still, a corrupted computer that never fully switched on? That happened to fritz out of you at unpredictable moments?

But all Dib could say in his rousing fury was: "How can you say that? He's an Irken! Just like you!"

Rath sighed and placed both claws on the smooth top of his staff. "It is illegal for other Irkens to shelter defectives, even if they are smeets. We Irkens are merciless, as you are just learning. They would kill me, human. In fact, talking to you now is a crime punishable by death."

Now Dib was beginning to see why those other Irken adults at the market paid the 'smeet' stall no mind. It was better not to get involved. Better to hate. Better to uproot the problem and kill it.

"But... but..." Dib was stammering.

Rath inspected the claws on his right hand for a brief moment as if he was bored of Dib, and bored of the dilemma the human had found himself in. "It is quite impossible for a smeet to be stolen out of the hatchery he was born in. The security levels are high, and the hatchery is monitored by machines. No Irken as any time to deal with 'babies.' As I've heard, smeets that are found 'defective' go down a disposal chute, and are left to die in a pit outside the hatchery. Your 'Nox' seller must have gathered them out of that pit, put them in his ship, and taken them straight to Flaxier 19 for a profit. Then you came along, and bought the damn thing."

Dib shook his head, trying to blind himself to the cruelty he was hearing too much of. It hurt.

He wanted to appeal to Rath's softer side: a side he knew the Irken had. Why else had they come here in secret and defying Irken Rule, to discuss Zim's fate? Rath could have hauled them both to his superiors without a speck of guilt. But he hadn't, and by the looks of it, wasn't going to. Yet.

"Here! Just take him!" He tried to give back the smeet, but Rath just pushed Dib away.

"I cannot! The smeet is a defective! What kind of life will it have, if it grows up? It will be destined to live a life of isolation and destitution, as have I. Living on the borders of society is no life at all. It is savage. It is unkind. I was beaten to near death by Irken soldiers as they tried to drive me out! I was perfect on every mission I did. My scores were higher than that of my peers. But they couldn't see past that. They saw only the colour of my skin, and the loose coding in my PAK. To them I was a broken tool about to run riot against them at any time. And do you know why Irkens hate defectives so much? It's because defectives can't be controlled so easily. We are allowed to dream. We suffer emotionally. And because of that, we are _the_ loose cannon capable of change. And the Irken Empire does not want a free thinker. They want drones with one hive purpose. One hive mind. Could you imagine what would happen if enough Irkens wanted to believe in something other than a war? Like religion? Like sin? Like self-belief? It could destroy this newly forming Armada and kill the Empire from within!"

Dib was in a state of perplexed shock.

Rath was a defective too?

He always knew that he was different: the colour of his skin was a loud exclamation mark amongst his fellow green Irkens, but the fact that he was also suffering this... PAK corruption was something Dib had not seen coming. What even was PAK corruption? To understand that, he supposed he had to have a full understanding of the PAK, and that wasn't his concern right now.

"Then... then what do I do with him?"

Rath's tone darkened, as if Dib had merely taken it upon himself to suffer the cost, and that he deserved the pain and responsibility it would henceforth bring. "You should have thought of that before you went and bought the thing. But there is one option."

Dib did not like his gruff tone. "Oh, and what's that?"

"You destroy the smeet before you get anymore attached than you have already. Defective smeets don't tend to survive very long anyway and you are going to end up with a whole lot of trouble if you do decide to keep it. But I'm here not to judge. Only to deliver sound advice."

But it did seem to Dib that he was being judged. Rath did not seem to have a compassionate cell in his body. This smeet was Irken, but Rath merely saw Zim as a dirty, useless tool that had no other purpose than being dumped in a waste disposal unit.

"So I guess I won't be going to Irk then." Dib stated with misery, trying to rethink his fragile plans on the spot while Rath continued to give him that condescending look. But his scrutiny made Dib feel nervous. "Is there anywhere else I can take him?"

"No. There is nowhere. You seem to misunderstand the situation you are in, Dib human. Irkens will destroy him, and any other alien race, be they aggressive or peaceful, will also destroy him. We Irkens are at war with all other races, including ourselves, it seems. To that effect, you are a privileged creature to be conversing with me on such a civilized level. If our circumstances weren't so...benign..." he said after a moment, as if he had been struggling for the right word, "then we'd be at each other's throats. If I were you, I'd leave that smeet right here, in this shrine, and walk away. No one will think any less of you for it."

Anger flashed through Dib again, as hot and as pure as lightning. "But he's a baby! He's not even a week old! He's innocent! Nothing deserves such abandonment! I cannot doom him like you would!"

Rath cantered his head sideways a little, and his eyes, usually narrowed about halfway, now closed to cerise slits that shone as pure as rubies in the light splintering through the canopy of purple leaves.

"So what _will_ you do?"

Dib could not curb his anger, even though he knew it was pointless getting angry at Rath. Rath had obviously led a life of spite and distress, having lived an isolated life as an albino and a defective. He was speaking out of experience, and did not want Zim to suffer the same fate as himself. All the same, Rath wasn't exactly helping much. But the injustice Dib felt was all very real, so much so, that he could taste the bitterness of it on his tongue. A lot must have happened to Rath to make him so uncompromising, even when it came to the fate of infants. The same injustices had been practised on him, again and again. He did not want Zim to suffer the same fate: the same penalisation.

 _So what will you do?_

Up to this point, handing Zim over to Rath had been Dib's final solution, as paper-thin as it was.

In all honesty, he didn't know, and he admitted it, because lying about it to someone as clever as Rath was just foolhardy. "I hadn't planned that far ahead. I can't keep him, Rath! I've got to go home, back to Earth! He doesn't belong there."

"You're right about that. Defectives don't belong anywhere." His candid response, so easily said, put a bucket load of ice down Dib's spine.

And Zim was wide awake in his arms, listening to it all.

What was he thinking?

Was he processing all of what was being said with understanding? Dib figured, based on what he'd seen of Zim's intellect, more noticeably the tablet Zim had written on, and he way he seemed to understand Dib's verbal conversations, that yes, he was could understand them well enough.

"You humans are infinitely soft, aren't you?" Rath concluded after some thought. "Rescuing every little broken thing you come across as if it's yours to save. The long-dead Kababito were very much like you humans. Soft. Caring. Healing every little sick thing that scuttled their way as if it made a bit of difference. And what happened to them? They died because they were weak: trapped as they were in their pointless compassion. If they'd spent less time believing in god, and more time building weapons, they may not have left the stage so quickly." When Dib did not answer, frozen as he was, still devoted to the smeet, Rath saw then the conflict flashing in the human's amber eyes behind his glass lenses.

The thing that Rath didn't know was that humans were incredibly a lot like the Irken race. Humans could be cruel, heartless, and violent to a pointless degree. Dib was an exception to that rule, but he didn't say so.

"Tell you what," Rath murmured at last, his antennae falling low, "I'll save you the pain and trouble, and I'll dispose of the infant myself. I'll make it... easy on him. He won't feel a thing. I promise."

At this, Zim wedged himself tightly against Dib's chest, squealing. His little claws knotted themselves tightly into the blue shirt he wore.

He knew.

He understood.

Dib tightened his hold on him, understanding the sacrifice Rath was offering: to risk his own life to save his human friend the 'trouble': trouble he had so innocently bought from a Halycon. Maybe Rath was not capable of suffering the same regret that bogged down every human: that guilt that served each and every path.

A small part of Dib considered how easy it was to pass this defective smeet into the claws of fate, to save Zim a life of hardship and poverty. But that small part of him was quickly closed off when Zim squealed again. His big eyes were closed, and he was pitifully shivering.

He just couldn't, even if it was the right thing to do.

"No." He croaked out. "It's my problem."

Rath nodded, as if he expected no less from his human friend. "Each Irken has his own demons to struggle with, and overcome. Yours shall be no different. I hope you have not made the wrong decision."

"Yeah." Dib said, crestfallen. "Me too."


	8. Home Sweet Home

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be going home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against those who want defectives dead.

 **Warnings:**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. AU.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

 **This gorgeous DAMNRIGHT GORGEOUS story picture/avatar I am using is not mine, it has been made by the lovely Alicartin! OH YEAH! This picture is owned by her. Please do not use without her permission. Thanks for reading! :)**

 **As a side note, I did not realize how perfectly this adorable picture goes with this story! It's sooo... CUTE! ^_^**

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 **A/N:**

This chapter is a shoutout to **Alicartin** who has made me glow countless times with her Discount Smeet art she made for me awhiles back. I know I have gushed about it before, but I gotta gush again! Plus her lovely message on Tumblr gave me the encouragement to push out this update, which was due a long time ago! I just hope it was worth the wait! XD

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 **guestrev:** Thanks, heh, I enjoy writing it, I hope you like this chapter as much as the ones before it!

 **Intrigued Reader:** I hope there's still time, and that you haven't exploded yet! Quick, here! It's all yours!

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 **Chapter Eight: Home Sweet Home**

' _It's my problem.'_ His own words echoed resolutely through his head. As did Rath's cool, almost uncouth reprisals.

' _Each Irken has his own demons to struggle with, and overcome. Yours shall be no different. I hope you have not made the wrong decision.'_

The trip back to the ship was a sad one. And Zim looked to him; unsure what Dib was thinking, or planned to do with him now. As if the infant was very much aware of the burden he was and had become in the space of five minutes. It was never something Dib had intended him to hear, or had expected things to turn as foul as they had. He had wanted, expected an easy exchange as it might have gone on Earth between two humans. But Irkens were a lot more complicated and foolhardy than he had ever imagined. He had not realized that Irkens were encompassed entirely by politic agendas, war and status. If Zim hadn't been a defective, Rath may well have taken him to an Irken soldier who then would in turn deport him back to Irk for his proper evaluation and conscription into service.

But Zim was a born defective, which meant he was about as useful to the Empire as a crooked screw. And even if there was a problem physically and mentally with the smeet, Dib could not have him killed.

The Irken system was clinical and barbaric. Their ways reminded him of mankind during the days of Spartan men and women who dumped their sickly newborns into rivers, gullies or on the dry wastes surrounding their city. Like the Spartans, the Irken Empire was only interested in the strong, and the capable. The meek were pushed to one side, and discreetly disposed of. Perhaps the 'defective' smeets at the market had not been 'dumped' after all as Rath had suggested, but had been prematurely ejected out of their incubators because the system found their development unsatisfactory. After that, only Zim knew the rest of the story, and how he had ended up on Flaxier 19.

Rath's words continued to sting:

' _You're right about that. Defectives don't belong anywhere.'_

' _You humans are infinitely soft, aren't you? Rescuing every little broken thing you come across as if it's yours to save.'_

Taking Zim back to Irk was not going to happen.

Like a noose tightening around him, his chances of passing Zim on to another plummeting, he felt like there was nowhere else to go, no other option to cling to.

Unless... unless he kept him. And risked taking him home, back to Earth.

If he did that, his whole life would have to become a carefully constructed secret. He'd have to live apart from the other humans, and have a home in the mountains perhaps, where Zim could live freely until their next voyage into deep space. To have an alien...wondering about on Earth's soil. It was so strange. So bizarre.

But to have such a companion felt pretty hopeful. Yet it meant disposing of any possible chance of leading a normal human life with his fellow species. He'd never have kids, never have a partner. He'd devote all his time to space travel, and to this strange creature he had adopted. Dib wondered if he still would have bought Zim, knowing the consequences he did now.

As he made his way back through the throng of aliens towards the Emporium, and towards Blue Thunder's docking station, he heard a call behind him. He was almost too afraid to look in case it was one of those soldier Elites come to whip him for blinking too many times or doing something else equally innocent.

"Dib human."

It was Rath, limping along with his elegant staff. When he drew closer, his voice was low, and his eyes still held that splintery condensation as if he looked to Dib with much loathing when in fact it was simply his naturally tense expression.

"Here." He dropped something heavy into Dib's hand. "There may be a way to conscript Zim into service."

Dib actually felt his heart stop dead in his chest. He paused a lucrative moment to look at what it was Rath had dumped into his hand. It was an black acorn shaped pendent. But a closer look revealed intricately embossed veins on the thing, looking more like a heart than an acorn.

"But you said...!"

"Technology has moved on since I was conscripted into service as a smeet." Rath seemed to press on, his earlier patience worn dry as if he was worried of onlookers. But the street was pretty thick with crowds, and Dib hoped it would camouflage them for the time being. "I can fabricate a chip. One that can hide Zim's defectiveness from the Control Brains until he is of age where they can't so easily destroy him. It will at least give him a chance."

"Control brains? Conscription? But... he'll be a soldier, like you!"

"Yes! It's the future of every Irken! Isn't that what you so wanted, child of Earth? A chance for this woebegone creature to live a normal, serviceable life – a life that can bestow seldom privileges."

"But you said he won't live that long! That'll he'll be doomed to live a broken life on the sidelines!"

"Not if his status is one of the greatest pretence. But it'll be your job to get him stronger. If he survives his first month, you only activate this charm. The chip should be ready by then. I know of your backwater planet, though I too have heard of its poisonous air and waters. I will not tarry there long, once I arrive to claim this Irken. Or you may signal me on some other planet, if you do not wish it of me to come to your dirty Earth."

"What's this going to cost me?"

Rath looked conceited then and there, and his earlier openness and charm seemed to swirl right down the drain. "The debt will not be yours to pay. It will be Zim's. Once he is conscripted, and of age, I will employ him under my services. Maybe he will prove useful to me after all. And maybe, just maybe, in the near future, you two will meet again, but as enemies."

"Like he'll forget me that fast. How's this chip even going to...?"

"It'll be like a microprocessing adapter, able to render his corruption blind to any computer, because computers are easy to fool once a wizard knows how." And he tapped the side of his head. "It won't change him. Of course. But I can bend perceptions."

Dib looked at him doubtfully, trying to foretell what the story really was behind his malicious eyes of deepest red. But Rath revealed very little as he stared right back, one hooked claw resting piously on his robed hip, the other stationed on his staff. There was little to deduce what he really felt, or meant. Dealing with an alien who knew more than him, and had far superior technology at his disposal wasn't very wise. Especially when Earth could be a high prize indeed for anyone interested. But it was the way out Dib was seeking.

"Will you be good to him?"

"As best as any teacher can be. But in war, we do not make friends out of each other, human child. And do not think any less of our methods just because you are not a soldier."

"I'll keep that in mind." His eyes darted left and right as he gave it thought, but Rath looked smug. Smug, because he knew the decision Dib would rise to. "Fine. You make that chip, and it had better work!"

"Remember. One month from now. An Earth month. I'll be waiting for your signal. And do not be hard on yourself if mortality takes the smeet. Weaklings are ill fit for the tough lives we all lead." And with that he turned, the robe sweeping along the ground as he made his retreat, the staff preceding every step made with his right leg.

Like all solitary, unsentimental Irkens bred into the military, he did not look back. And faded into the crowd.

x

Zim was quiet on the way back, his head heavy on Dib's shoulder. Every so often his chest pulled in a difficult breath that made a bubbly sound, and he'd squeak up coughs. Dib kept him covered for much of the journey back, and when the cargo doors of _Blue Thunder_ opened, he stepped up onto the ramp and had it close behind him. Dib felt a little safer since arriving, but he would feel safer still once he had undocked and they were moving.

Cradling Zim with one arm, he went to the bridge and set the co-ordinates to exit the Aggros system. He had a tight feeling in his chest; a niggling worry about Rath's choice of words, the Irken Empire's expanding armies, and what could await him back on Earth if he chose to keep Zim. These worries and problems were piling up, making him feel heavy with responsibility. He had not wanted any of this, and yet he had taken it on a plate, and now he had to sit down, and eat it.

x

"Zim. Zim, look at me."

When his beautiful starry eyes did not look up, Dib gently tucked a finger beneath his bony chin and lifted his head up. His bulbous eyes of many refracting colours: pink, cherry and dashes of mauve, diffidently looked up into his tired, dull amber ones.

They were on the observation deck, and beyond the line of empty couches was a massive screen showcasing every star the eye could see. The darkness was bright with the lambent glow of a thousand suns. And each one left a trace of silver in Zim's reflecting eyes. But the smeet had not graced the stars with a single look. Ever since returning to the ship, he had turned away from Dib at every opportunity, looking about as downtrodden on as an orphan could get. No doubt the words Rath and Dib had said were still going on inside the smeet's little brain.

Dib had rather hoped the screen on the observation deck would brighten the smeet's little heart. But it was not working. He realized that it was only he himself that could re-ignite that smouldering spark, and nothing else.

Dib sat across from the smeet on the stool, realizing that, in order to guide the smeet back from the shadows of doubt and self-regret that would surely eat Zim whole, he would have to take the first step.

"I'm sorry. Really sorry for putting you through that. To me, you are not a 'defective' as Rath called it. To me you are an Irken named Zim. And... and I would like to... to keep you, if that's okay. I'm... I'm really sorry it took me this long to realize. It's just because... well, I'm human, and I live on a planet far, far away. But, if you'd like, we can live together. For however long you want."

Zim's eyes flashed away from his, and he looked incredibly sad, incredibly betrayed. To think that such a baby could contemplate so much... and be so emotionally weighed down. Dib wished he had been able to save Zim from the debauchery of life and its cold indifference and shield his innocence for as long as fathomably possible.

He struggled to think of what else to say. Zim did not seem to want to speak, as if doing so would open him up to indefinite hurt. Regardless of his muteness, his expressions, though subtle, were perfectly loud to Dib. For the first time in his life, Zim was, for a second time, faced with being all alone. Dib had not wanted him. And Rath had labelled him as something broken, and that all things broken had to be thrown to the wayside, where they belonged.

"Zim. You must speak. Say something! Anything!"

But the smeet did not meet his request with a look, or a sound.

"Zim, I was scared, okay? I've never had anything to look after before! I didn't know what to do! And... and when Rath explained to me just how unique and special you were, I... I suddenly realized how much I wanted to have you. To bring up. To protect. I've decided what _I_ want, Zim, not what I think I should do, or what's responsible of me. And do you know what I want?" There was the meekest shake of Zim's head. "I want to look after you. I want to be your father. If you'll have me."

Zim actively looked up at him, and his glossy eyes full of sweeping shadows reflecting the barren coldness within had vanished. He got up, waddled two steps over to Dib and hugged him. Dib closed his arms over the smeet in a glad and loving embrace.

"You're staying with me." He whispered beside his antennae. "This ship is your home now. We're going back to where I came from. We're going to Earth."

Accepting Zim as his own felt right somehow, even though Dib knew he had begun a new stage of anxiety when he would get to Earth, but he pushed it right back into the corridors of his mind, and basked in the happy glow that filled him completely. Dib had tried so hard to do the right thing that he had failed to see what might have made Zim actually happy. And now he realized it. Zim hugged him with frightened fierceness, as if in the moment of letting go, Dib would irrevocably change his mind, and cast Zim into a pile for the broken and the unwanted. Had the Nox merchant filled his head with much the same talk? It seemed possible, and Rath's cold apathy in the matter may have just reopened Zim's wounds that hadn't yet started to close.

"It's going to be okay, Zim." Dib said, alternatively stroking and hugging the baby, "We're going to be okay."

If only that were true.

 **x**

 **A few days later**

 **x**

Blue Thunder blasted its jets downwards, turning a simple landing into a bit of an art. The blasters greased out huge amounts of hot air that turned into violent geysers that would have swatted anybody down, even buildings. Its underside was bright with warning flashlights as it manoeuvred gently, but loudly downwards. Even after it landed, sending many of the scientists back as they tried to press forwards, the damage on its hull was clear. Mostly along its stern, and starboard side, were huge dents left by brief collisions with stray asteroid debris or interstellar dust. But majorly, its integral hull was intact.

The inner hatch opened, and Dib proudly stood in the doorway as the ramp descended. As per usual upon every arrival, his return brought its own media flurry. People stood back, their cameras rolling, and the bright flash of cameras zipped off his glass lenses like lightning strobes. His father, the tallest amongst them, stood out, and always approached his son first.

"How was it son? Did you see Pluto? Did you go beyond our known solar system and into the great beyond?"

 _Oh, I've done more than that._ He thought wily. "Oh, yeah. I saw a couple of nebulas. Visited Proxima Centauri. Nothing special." More cameras blinked in front of him. No doubt he'd be one the front page of Space Time magazine again. He wished they didn't all swarm around him like seagulls every time he returned. Wish they'd just let him pick up his stuff and go home. It was bad enough walking off a ramp from a plane ride around the world, but he'd come from an all-round trip across many galaxies, and he was bone tired. But, of course with all things forbidden in the alien department, he had an even bigger reason to get away, and that was the baby alien he kept tucked up in his bag. He had to forgo any other item to avoid suspicion, and had warned Zim to not make any noise, which sounded like a strange request asking a mute to stay quiet. But the last thing he wanted was Zim to be discovered, snatched out of his bag by the scientists, and paraded around like some otherworldly trophy for all the world to see. Then Zim would spend his last moments living like a lab animal.

"Have you been to any other constellation?" The cameras pressed close.

"Other than Sagittarius? Yeah. I might stroll through the Ophiuchus system, or maybe Orion next time. We'll see."

A photographer got in his way, and aimed the camera right at him, holding a microphone in the other hand. "Any sign of alien life?" He asked Dib.

He had already been prepared for these invasive questions, and the ludicrous media frenzy that came hand in hand with being the professor's son and owning the world's fastest spaceship. So, with practise, lying had become a whole lot easier. "No. Not at all. Space is just stars and cosmic dust." His bag started to jostle as the tiny baby inside began to fidget. Dib's practised calm began to melt around the edges. A silly, lopsided smile graced his lips as he nodded at the media crew as he tried to pass them by. But his father grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him away. He was still trapped.

"What a venture, my boy, what a venture!" Professor Membrane was slapping his son's shoulder proudly, his voice thick with cheer. He always seemed very happy whenever Dib returned, be it because of his space travel achievements, or simply because he was glad to see him alive and well until his next decade-long endeavour through the galaxies. "I am so very proud of you! I'd come too, but my age desists my lust for such long and weary voyages! It is not a journey for the old. And besides, my place is here, developing all that this besotted world needs."

"Maybe I'll take you sometime, dad. I think you'll like it."

"And how are you? Fairing well, I trust? You look tired, son. Is everything okay?"

The media was following them like some strange locomotive made out of humans. The snap of the cameras went off, and they were murmuring amongst themselves. The ship in question; Blue Thunder, standing proud under its huge shaft where he had made a jerky landing, looked proud and yet somehow sullenly majestic despite its many dents and bumps to its hull. He had seen Flaxier 19 in that ship. Seen Irkens in that ship. And travelled such a distance that no man may ever cross again. Space was a dangerous place, barbed in risky opportunities. And he had ended up coming home with a baby alien not native to Earth, or its bacteria, or its atmosphere. He worried about Zim's health a lot, and worried about being found out by his own race of humans.

"I am tired." Dib confessed. "I just want to go home. I can fill a report in later if you like. I'm not used to the gravity here either. I feel ten times heavier than I've been all year."

His father laughed, clapping his poor old son one final time on the shoulder. "I understand! Go for a ride in the limoscene I have waiting for you outside my lab! My treat!"

x

Dib shuffled into the backseat, delicately placing his duffel bag on the seat beside him as he shut the door. The cameramen pressed themselves to the glass outside, still snapping away shots at their renowned 'space boy.' Dib gave them one last smile, when really he just wanted to flip them the bird. Still, as much as he enjoyed the fame once upon a time, he knew it was the curse he had to ride with. The public loved him, and loved him even more when he put his own life at risk just to satisfy human curiosity. But he did it for himself. Not for them.

"Where to, Mr. Membrane?" Asked the limoscene driver.

"Urm, Lincoln, please. Maple."

"Right away."

Just as Dib clipped his seatbelt shut, the bag did that funny little jerk again. Dib grabbed the bag in the hopes the driver hadn't noticed, and put it on his lap. He bent low over the bag, and whispered; "Hush. Not long now. Just lie still!"

"You okay back there?" The limoscene driver was watching him in the rearview mirror.

Dib nodded, sweating just a tad. "Yeah! Just talking to myself, that's all!"

But the bag wobbled again, as if Zim was actively defying him. No doubt it was fun to challenge the parent, when he did not realize the dangers the very parent was trying to protect him from. Either that, or Zim was just plain uncomfortable, and hated the cramped, dark space he had been confined to. For he had been in there for almost 30 minutes.

The phone in his pocket tinkled. It made him start, having not been used to the nature of mobile phones during his space flight endurances. He picked it up, toggling its touch screen to answer it, thinking it was his dad filling him with praise once again. But it was not.

"Dib! Why didn't you call me as soon as you landed? You bastard."

His heart did an uneasy double beat in his chest when he recognised the voice of his sister. "Gaz, I haven't even got home yet! I'm dirty and I'm tired. I was gonna call you!"

"That's not good enough! You had me worried sick! I'm coming over!"

"No, wait! Don't..." But the line went dead. She had already hung up. "Jeez. That girl." He muttered.

 _Great. Flipping fantastic!_ His worry came on again, tighter than before, so much so, that he felt dizzy with it.

IF she came round, he'd have to stuff Zim in some other hiding place yet again.

This was only his first hour back on Earth, and already he felt way out of his depth. Hiding an alien felt sound on paper. But actually putting it into practise was nigh impossible. As if in tandem, there was a squeal from inside the bag. When the driver came him an eyeful in the rearview mirror, Dib pretended to wheeze and cough, which was not an easy thing to fake.

 _This smeet's getting angry, Dib. And if he gets mad enough, he might just burst out of the bag for a nice fat surprise. Then try explaining yourself to the driver!_ He thought to himself, chewing his lip enough to make it bleed.

In another five minutes, the driver had parked up along the curb by his home. To see the house again, after years and years of space, and darkness, and lonesome stars blinking in the ever reaches of nothing was a dream he thought he may never achieve. Nothing could quite beat the humbleness of coming home, and seeing simple plain bricks and mortar that meant so much. It lifted the tiredness from his shoulders and chest, and made him feel bright with hope again. "Thanks, Tom." He said, about to hand him a tip.

"No need." Tom, the driver said. "Your dad paid big bucks to drive you home first class."

Dib nodded his appreciation, gave the driver a wave and struggled out with the bag in tow. He slammed the door shut and watched the limo drive away. To be alone once more, and not to be pestered by anybody, was a boon to his soul and mind.

"Nearly there, Zim." He said aloud, and walked to his front door. After digging up the keys from the submerged depths of his pocket, he opened the door, and stepped inside, closing it behind him. The peaceful sound of its own private solitary was truly sweet indeed. Then, gently, he plopped the bag down on the carpet in the hallway, and unzipped the bag.

Zim's head immediately popped through the opening, breathing harshly as if, during the trip, he had begun to suffocate.

Dib grimaced, forgetting to leave an opening for air to get in. "Sorry, little fella. But I didn't want anyone to see you." He went to pat the smeet's head, but Zim shied from his touch, as if still angry with him. "Yeah, I'm a dope. I know. Anyhow, this is my sweet abode, Zim Zam. This is my home. And it's yours now too."

Anger forgotten, Zim scanned the hallway with curious, large glossy eyes. He gave everything a once-over. The ceiling. The carpet. The adjacent stairway. The door leading to the parlour, and the one to the kitchen. Almost excitedly, he went to leave the bag, only to tumble heavily on his knees like a clumsy human child.

Dib picked him up, and placed him gently back on his feet again. He was plenty warm, he found, thanks to the snug blue pyjamas he was wearing. "Earth gravity." He said apologetically. "It caught me by surprise too."

Stubbornly, the smeet knocked Dib's helping hands aside and waddled off on his own, desperate he was to explore and to learn and to see. Dib stood back, still feeling sick to his stomach at how he was going to execute all this: and keeping the baby alien a secret. And his home functioned purely for a bachelor. He had already paid the first expense at keeping Zim a secret. He had ejected all his baby stuff except for what he was wearing through the shutter hatch in space. Because, he knew that as soon as he landed, his dad and his party of scientists would go over his ship with their magnifying glasses, studying all there was to see. Dib had had to fake the records in his archives showing where the ship had been, and had to hide all his data on his computer. Blue was good at keeping secrets, which was just as well. But lying to his own fellow species did not feel good, and he was beginning to hate himself for it more and more every day he lived on Earth.

Zim patted into the kitchen, his little eyes trying to take it all in at once. At least he wasn't wilting like a dying flower in the Earth's new atmosphere, and he seemed to be doing rather well.

"D-Dib. Home." His little voice, so casually slipping out, took his father by surprise.

Dib was by him in a heartbeat. "What did you say?"

Zim glanced up at him, and Dib could still see the stars in the depths of his fuchsia eyes, reminding him of the baby's faraway origins. "Your home."

Dib could not contain his massive grin. "It's your home too, little guy." Zim's gaze held onto his for just a little while longer, and then he continued his avid exploration. Dib was still beaming. What was it that had finally clicked? What was it that had got Zim speaking? Was it because of what he had said to him in the observation deck? He was too afraid to push Zim any further; worried this might break the spell, and seal the baby's voice up again.

 _Just run with it Dib._

It furthered the theory that Zim had been holding himself back this whole time, as if afraid of... what? Commitment? Loyalty? So used was he from being passed from one pair of hands to the next, and not allowing himself to speak and therefore build relationships?

At least there was nothing wrong with his vocals then. Or his throat.

The smeet ran his eyes up and down the large, towering kitchen cabinets. Everything was much sparser, and more spacious than what he had been used to on Blue Thunder. He walked giddily across the tiled linoleum floor, his socked feet making soft little patting noises. Then he wandered over to the patio glass doors that looked upon Dib's proud garden that had subsequently become overgrown since his last visit. It was a green paradise of such avid greenery that Zim was drawn to it, as if amazed by the verdure. He kept on walking, thinking he could reach that green pasture until he hit the glass door with a rattling thump. Dib grimaced and came over, thinking that at any minute the smeet would explode into tantrum-fuelled tears and screams. But Zim merely brushed himself off and stood back up again, knocking his little fist on the glass experimentally.

"That's glass, honey. I'd open the door, but let's save it for another day, huh? You've got the rest of the house to explore don't forget."

Zim seemed hesitant to leave. He had never seen forest before, or such lush grass, or the colourful flowers that bloomed along the back garden path. If he pricked his antennae high enough, he could hear the distant sounds of summer birdsong; the wail of police car sirens giving chase somewhere in the city, and a dog barking.

As he stood there, curiously taking it all in, and still sometimes banging lightly on the glass as if he was half-expecting a portal to open up for him, Dib stood back, glad he did not have a cat flap or he would have already lost his smeet halfway down the garden, and it was a big garden.

He turned to the fridge, and opened it, disappointed to find that the only thing sitting on the shelf was half an onion that didn't look so good, a lemon, a carton of spoiled semi-skimmed milk, and some really, really mouldy bread that looked about as green as the garden outside. The cupboards yielded very little as well, not counting the box of oatmeal, and tins of soup and beans. He'd have to go shopping. For smeet and human alike.

Yet, when he next turned, he found the glass door absent of baby alien. In fact, Zim wasn't in the kitchen at all. Panic rolled in on him, as potent as a hammer hitting his chest, and his wide eyes swept the kitchen as his heart pounded. "Zim? Zim, where'd you go?"

He had diverted his attention for just a few minutes, that was all! He went down the hallway and heard a cheerful cry coming from the front parlour. Zim was sitting on a soft sheep rug with a white pot of something in his claws.

"Zim, what do you have there?" He was relieved that he hadn't gone very far after all, and that the stairs may prove an obstacle too steep for such a young baby to tackle so soon. He quickly thought of maybe installing a baby gate to prevent any catastrophes involving stairs.

"Dopamine!" Zim chuckled happily, holding the pot of drugs in his needle-like claws. He was pleased with himself, because he had mimicked the words on the bottle.

"Where'd you get that?" Dib was sure he had left that on the table or maybe the shelf when he left his home some months prior, and the shelf was 4 feet from the floor. There was no way Zim could have reached that. He hurried over to grab it off him, knowing the pot had a child-proof lock on it anyway, when, as if to answer his question, a tapered, long (oh-so-horrifyingly-long) metal strut swept out of the baby's metal dome on his back and rocketed backwards, smashing a bunch of stuff all along on Dib's mantelpiece. Dib threw himself backwards, hitting the lounge door and breathing hard, a look of horror peeling outwards on his face. Zim just squeakily chuckled, crying out : "Dopamine!" as if he loved saying the word.

Then the metal strut from hell disappeared again, as if the dome on the baby's back was sucking it back inside.

Were those...weapons he just saw?

Dib swallowed. And swallowed again.

 _Jeez. Thanks Rath._ He thought with resentment, knowing full well that the albino Irken must have known about these secretive abilities, and had chosen instead not to warn him about them.

 _Well, when you adopt a baby alien that happened to originate from a military planet invested in war, what do you expect? And a baby that happens to melt when it comes into contact with water. Yeah. Fun times ahead, Dib._

Zim looked fondly up at him, smiling.

 _I don't think he knows how to control it. Whatever the hell that was that erupted out of his... PAK thing._

And without proper training, how could Zim know?

"You gonna put that down, Zim?" He asked, knowing that he was still pressing himself up against the lounge door.

Zim dropped the pot. And the rattle of the pills instead encouraged another giggle out of him.

Dib relaxed, but only slightly. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

xxx

 _This is a stupid idea! Stupid!_

He pushed the shopping cart forwards, trying to act normal. Zim was riding in his rucksack, which Dib wore on his shoulder. He could not leave the baby home alone in fear of making him sick again, (and for the health of his own house as well) but he wasn't great about the whole 'I'm taking him with me' idea either. But if he kept a low profile, and had Zim stay still, his head mostly hidden by a blanket, he would hopefully be passed off as a doll or toy. And things were actually working. Dib had already been down two aisles without incident. However, as he made to grab a packet of noodles, a girl was standing opposite him in the aisle, staring at his rucksack. Wherever Dib went, the girl followed, like she was some floating, soundless apparition. And when she wasn't there, she was peeping round a corner, always watching.

"Honey?" Her mom called to her somewhere down the second or third aisle where Dib could not see. "What are you doing? Stop wandering around and stay close to me!"

"But mommy, that man has an alien!" And she even pointed his way. Dib felt himself knot up all over.

"Yes, I'm sure he has." Came the uninterested response, "Now come here!"

Dib could start to breathe again. Yet, when he passed down the toy aisle to get to the bath products, Zim reached out of the rucksack to grab one of the toys on the shelf. Bright, pleasing colours was an instant attraction to Irkens, and Zim was no different. He grabbed a beige plush bear that was about half as big as he was.

"Zim! Put that back! You've got enough stuff in the cart already!" He whispered. And, to make matters worse, the girl was back, closer than ever.

"Mister." She said to him. She wore a pink dress, and her hair was in cute little pigtails. "What's the alien's name? Is it friendly?"

It took a second for Dib to realize who she meant. He tried to keep the rucksack out of her vision, not that it did much good. "Uh... what alien?"

"The one in your bag!" She said as if he was stupid. "Where'd you get it? I want one too." She had to be no older than seven.

"Oh, I'm sure a toy store sells them somewhere." He went to move away, and still, she followed. Dib could not scan his items fast enough through the checkout. He bought the beige bear too, and could only relax again when they were back in the car. Just as he was buckling up, Zim in a new babyseat in the back and cuddling his soft bear, the first drops of rain hit the windshield.

"All buckled in, buddy?" He called to the smeet at the back, who squealed happily in reply. "Good. Let's get the fuck out of here."

"Fuck out of here." To which the baby replied in perfect English.

"Yeah. Better be careful what I say, huh?"

Dib pulled up to his driveway, grabbed the shopping in one hand, and picked up Zim in his rucksack in the other. The rain was coming down heavier, spilling in resolute torrents and causing rapidly filling puddles that greased the roads and sidewalks. Cars flurried on by, creating mini waves of water as they sped past. Instinctively, Zim tucked himself right down as far as he could go within the depths of the bag, but he let out wild, frightened squeals as if the very sound and dampness of the rain caused him great alarm. He was holding onto his bear the whole time, and just as Dib tried to juggle out his keys, the plush toy slipped from his claws, and hit the wet pavement below. Unnoticed by Dib, he shoved the door open with his shoulder and went on inside, closing the door behind him. Zim jumped out of the rucksack and ran on legs still too ungainly for him to wield, so he flipped over onto his chest with a painful thud. Then he was up again, scrabbling for a control panel that would open the door. But there was no control panel.

"Zim, why do you want to go outside? It's raining. You'll melt into sticky green goo."

"Toy!" He said, not yet knowing the appropriate word for 'bear.' "In wet! Toy! I dropped it!"

"Just no running and getting hit by a car. Understand? You stay behind me." Dib wasn't sure if this was a trick. Being as smart as he was, Dib had to prepare for anything. But he did open the door, and he did see the brand new toy getting soaked right down to the core of its stuffing. It lay like something dead and wet on his front porch. Dib ran out, snatched it up in one hand and brought it back inside. This was turning into a bit of a mess. If someone had seen him open the door, and seen the tiny alien waiting anxiously on his indoor mat, he was so fucked. "Don't touch it, Zim Zam." He swung the wet toy away whenever Zim made to grab it.

"No! No! Toy!"

"It's got to dry first!" He walked right past the suffering child, and dumped the wet toy into the tumble dryer in the kitchen. When Dib went to unpack the shopping, he looked round to see the smeet pressed against the glass door of the tumble dryer, watching his favourite toy go round and round inside. It was then that Dib noticed a nasty looking patch of dark green on Zim's cheek as if he had knocked or scratched himself there. The human knelt down and tilted Zim's face towards him by lifting his chin up with his finger. "You scratch yourself, Zim Zam?"

"No." He squeaked, his large eyes blinking worriedly.

"I didn't notice it earlier. You must have bumped yourself. You've done lots of falling down today." He went to touch the dark patch, thinking it to just be a bruise, when the skin came away, sliding out from under his finger like butter. Underneath was wet, suppurating flesh. "Oh..." Dib didn't know what else to say, but his mind was in a huge tussle of concern. Maybe it was just how Irkens...bruised? He slid up Zim's blue pyjama sleeve, and alarmingly found more of these strange rash-like blemishes where the skin appeared to be peeling.

 _I can't deal with anymore problems._ He thought just as the doorbell rang. He would have ignored it on any other day, but this was one visitor he could not ignore. In the next two seconds there came a series of heavy banging that even made the pictures in their frames wobble against the wall.

"Dib! Open up right now! I know you're in there! Your car is in the driveway!"

"Oh no! It's Gaz!" He looked to Zim, having no clue where to hide him, especially when his cheek was still peeling. Was he moulting? Was this how Irkens grew? But he looked no bigger...

"Dib!" His sister called outside.

In a crossroads, feeling pulled apart in two different directions, Dib stood up, wondering how long his door would hold out for.

Zim took about two steps behind him, looking very upset and agitated.

Then Gaz crammed a key went into the lock.

 _Oh yeah. My sister has a spare key! How very unfortunate of me!_

She threw the door open like she was a cop jumping in on a raid.

Then came the uncomfortable and confused silence between them as Dib stood, soaked in wordless dread, with Gaz laying wide eyes on the alien standing off to one side in the kitchen doorway.


	9. Unweaving the Tapestry

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be coming home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against all those who want defectives dead.

 **Warnings**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. AU. Blood and cadaver mentions.

 **Declaimer**

I do not own Invader Zim. However this idea and story is mine.

This gorgeous DAMNRIGHT GORGEOUS story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Alicartin! Please do not use without her permission. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Vampire Tails** really requested that I update, so here it is! Sorry it's late. I had a lot going on in October and it's really set me back update-wise. I hope you enjoy! The next chapter will be out much sooner I promise!

All review replies are at the end of this chapter! Thanks so much for your loving support. It melts my heart!

Well, here it is. I just wish there was more smeet stuff out there! I love smeet Zim so much, and you dear readers do too. I love **Alicartin** for making Discount fanart that I use as this story's profile pic, because baby Zim is so terribly precious.

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: Unweaving the Tapestry**

Gaz pushed her way forwards and then kicked the door with one smooth motion, causing it to slam shut behind her. In the fire of the moment, it was easy to believe that she was no sister at all, but a cop who had heard about his little secret creature and had arrived to throw Dib into handcuffs, and then throw him into the backseat of a police car with cold calculation.

"Okay, what the hell is _that_ thing?" She didn't need to point. She never needed to gesture much these days. Her eyes usually did the persuading, with her fists clenched at her sides. She could get anybody to do anything with that stare, and that voice.

"What? Don't tell me you've never seen one of my dad's newest robot toys before?" It was hard to tell this lie, because of the way she looked through him. She might as well be an embodiment of Anubis really, judging his spirit with the ease of just one glance.

He tried to manoeuvre himself between the smeet and her.

She paused a moment, and still Dib couldn't breathe. Zim was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking uneasily at the back of his foster father, and then edging a glance around his legs to get a look at this scary intruder. His little hands were tapping against each other, his antennae slung so low that they had disappeared behind his head, with his eyes as big as silver coins.

"A robot, is it?" She growled.

"Well, yeah!" He could feel the sweat tickle his armpits; the adrenaline plugging his veins and making him feel as light as air, and yet paradoxically as heavy as a truck.

"Don't lie to me, Dib. How stupid do you think I am?"

Her deep purple hair curled at her white cheeks. She had become more sylphlike as she grew into an adult. She wore black almost all of the time now, which strangely made her look even more dangerous but also very pretty. Dib had never possessed that fierce grace.

Dib glanced down at the little creature. "Shoo now, robot thingy. Go and... switch to hibernation mode or something."

Zim looked to him, utterly confused. It hurt to see him so flustered and lost, with an ugly patch of skin curling down from his neck. Then the bottoms of his twinkly eyes filled with tears.

"Is that 'robot' of yours crying?" She asked, her voice just as stern.

"No, of course not! It's just a transmission leak or something. It's a prototype after all."

Gaz approached, and Dib planted himself between his sister and the smeet. He spread out his arms. "I don't think you should go near it! It's uh...a little delicate! Some calibrations are off!"

She gave him a look, and then pushed him bodily to one side. Zim looked up at her, claws bundled against his chest.

"Gaz!" He barked, his fear and shyness morphing into anger. He wasn't exactly sure what his next action should be.

Gaz wasn't making any aggressive motions towards the baby; she was simply staring at it. "That's no robot!" She sneered. "That's a fucking alien thing!" Now she went to touch it, pick it up maybe, or hurl it under an arm and take it away. Zim stepped back quickly, his little feet tapping against the linoleum floor.

Dib grabbed her arm to dissuade her from going any further, and she instantly turned, grabbed his hand and twisted his arm against his back. Disabled by pain, he was forced to stand down, his actions muted. "Gaz! Stop! So I went to space! Big deal!"

"And you came back with an alien that doesn't belong to you, didn't you! How stupid are you, Dib? Who knows what diseases that thing carries! It could be a biological threat to all life on this planet! What, you think no one will notice? That this thing will integrate just fine?"

"Gaz! Let go of me!"

Surprisingly, she did. Dib rubbed at his sore arm, hoping there was no permanent damage.

When they both looked for the smeet, there was no sign of him. Just an empty kitchen doorway.

"I can't believe this! You snuck it on board, didn't you? Snuck it past security too! Dad is gonna kill you!" He wasn't quite sure if he had ever seen her so angry with him. Her lips were so thin they were disappearing, and a ruby flush of colour was appearing in the centre of her white cheeks.

"It's a baby alien, sis! He had nowhere to go!"

"That doesn't give you the right to bring it back to Earth! You truly are CRAZY! You've got to take it back home, where it belongs right now, or I'll take the problem to dad!"

He was beginning to hear the echo of Rath in her words.

"Do you realize it could have infected you with something?" She continued as she walked, all guns blazing, into the kitchen to find it. "You need to go into quarantine! I could be infected too!" She crouched to look under the kitchen table.

"GAZ!"

"Shut up! I don't see you for months! Years! I thought of you! I worried about you! Then you come home with an alien gremlin!"

"It's not a gremlin! His name is Zim and he's an Irken smeet!"

"Oh great, you've named it! Just great!" Turning up empty, she pushed past him to investigate the hallway.

"Gaz, he's super intelligent! He can understand everything you say, and he can talk!"

"He can talk? In English?"

"Yes!"

That stopped her, but only for three seconds. She headed boldly into the parlour. So tiny a thing could be hiding under or around any bit of furniture.

"Gaz! You like animals, right? What would you do if you found a lost puppy or kitten on the side of the road? You'd take it home!"

"You should never assume anything of me, brother. And because you're so wonderfully inept, you wouldn't stop to realize the responsibilities. Besides, this is no goddamn kitten, Dib! Don't you understand the term 'alien?' You could already be dying from a virus it's being carrying. Gods, you're so fucking stupid!"

She dived round furniture, convinced of finding it. She pushed and kicked tables and chairs aside, anything that was in her way really, but her frustration levels almost popped when she still could not locate it.

"Gaz! Please! I'll do anything if you'd just stop and listen to me for a moment!"

"You're just naturally terrible at making decisions, Dib. You just need help, that's all." Ignorant to his pleas, she marched up the stairs, looking much like a soldier on the alert for enemy units.

There were four rooms on the landing; a storage room, a big bedroom, a study and a bathroom. Instinctively she went into Dib's bedroom first. There were lots of places to hide in there.

"Come out little alien." She was saying in a not-so-soothing voice. "I promise I won't hurt you."

Dib was always right behind her.

She looked under the bed, and smirked. A pair of glistening eyes of many strange colours stared back at her.

"Come out. It's okay." She icily cooed.

"Gaz, please, please don't do this. He's just a baby."

She ignored him. "Come on out. I'm a friend."

Those eyes in the darkness blinked. Outside, the wind was stirring up whirlpools of rain, causing it to lash across the bedroom windows. This caused the little alien to scrunch into a tighter ball beneath the bed. Gaz sighed heavily, and then resorted to getting down on all fours as she began to crawl beneath the bed. When she was closer, she swiped out a hand, and closed over the smeet's pretty blue sleeve.

Then she pulled. The alien was dragged along the carpet. She edged backwards, and pulled the smeet out from its little hiding place.

Its big, buggy eyes were looking at her, the colours in them swirling like a thousand slowly spinning galaxies. He was shivering in blue pyjamas two sizes too big for him. She noticed that the fine sculpt of his head, neck and body was very delicate and slender. This thing – this green creature with eyes that were much too big – that had feelers that twitched and moved spasmodically - was not her idea of cute. But there was a certain appeal in the way he looked at her, and the littleness he exhibited.

The unravelling of the skin on his cheek and neck; peeling like wet wallpaper, melted a few of the icicles in her heart.

She had intended to hurl it under her arm, and make off with it. Now she wasn't so sure.

The baby gently touched her hand with its claws, claws that were tentative and soft. "Gaaaz." It said in so tiny a voice.

She shook her head, aghast at what she had just heard. There was no way it could talk! Maybe it was like a parrot, and repeated what it heard, showing no real intelligence, only miming everything.

"Gazz." It said again, slightly differently, as if it was trying to get a hang of her name. "Gaz, Gaz fruend."

She pushed the smeet away from her, and stood up, brushing violently at the hand where he had touched her.

Dib stepped forward and scooped the smeet easily into his hands before straightening up and patting it as the smeet buried itself against his chest. "You really want to hand him over to dad?" He asked. "He'll be torn apart for science."

"Dib, they do that to animals in labs every day."

"Have you no heart?"

"No, because if I did, this world would consume me."

"Look, let's just talk this out. If you're still not convinced by the morning, fine. Run to dad and cry wolf. After all, if you're contaminated already, you may as well stay."

She was looking at the alien he so lovingly held. "How do you know it's not dangerous?"

"Does he look deadly to you?"

Gaz scowled. "Maybe I should stay to see how long it takes for you to fuck up with this thing."

"Whatever. I'm getting him something to eat."

"Why is this alien of yours moulting like that? Do you even know if that's normal?"

"It's the rain, I think. He reacts to untreated water."

"Oh great, and I suppose you've got something to treat those burns or whatever they are of his? And spare clothing too? He's a bloody mess, Dib!"

"I've got nothing else for him, okay! I had to blow all his baby things out of _Blue Thunder's_ airlock! All he has are these blue clothes he's wearing, a baby seat in the car and a teddy bear in the washing machine dammit!"

"Oh that's just great, Dib!" She followed him back downstairs and into the kitchen, where the bear was still going round and round in the washing machine. "Do you just expect things to fall into place as you bumble along?"

"I had to act quick, okay! Besides, I've only been on the planet for two hours, and then I had you breathing down my neck!"

"You don't even know what it eats, do you?" Her eyes suddenly flicked over to the grocery bags on the kitchen table, something she hadn't really taken much interest in during her hunt for the alien. "You've been out shopping? With that alien?"

"Yes. I needed food."

"Right. You infected a shopping store with that thing. Good job, idiot." She rolled her eyes, and then headed for the door. She was so utterly unpredictable. Alarm bells were ringing loudly in Dib's head. He had to stop her!

"No, wait! I said we'd talk this out!"

She gave him another one of her patented scowls that put ice in his veins. "Calm down. I'm not going to run to daddy just yet, but I will if I start coughing blood. I need some fresh air anyway, and I gotta go right now before I do something horrible to you, like punch you repeatedly. I might not be able to stop."

"Gaz wait!"

"I'll be back in about an hour, once I've cooled down. Then we'll fucking talk I guess."

"No cops!" Dib shouted after her, but she didn't stop, or turn round. She opened the door, braced the rain, and closed it behind her.

The silence was incredibly heavy. Zim was looking at the closed door a moment, and then glanced up at his new father.

"She's going to run to the authorities. I know it." Dib murmured despairingly.

"Gazzy run run."

He looked down at him, and the smeet smiled nervously. "What am I going to do with you, hmm?"

He walked into the downstairs bathroom, still carrying the little mite in his arms. Gaz was right. He had bitten off more than he could chew. And, now that he thought about it, the smeet had no bed of his own. No playpen to stop him from getting into trouble. And what the hell should he feed him when everything he had had been blown out of the airlock prior to landing?

He sat on the bathroom tiles, cuddling the little thing a moment as his stomach twisted into worried knots. Zim gratefully leaned his head on Dib's shoulder, enjoying the attention. He felt so small and delicate. It was a big, dangerous world out there, for the both of them.

Maybe he had but minutes before the cops lay siege to his home, and battered down the door. Or maybe it would be his dad, pulling up outside his house with a cage to secure the alien with. Gaz had never been too bothered with animals. She didn't possess the empathy to love and care for another creature unless she benefitted in some way. Games that trained the mind, and games that challenged her, were far more worth her time than clearing up after a puppy.

Dib parted the little creature from his shoulder, and held him in front of his face. He was going to fight for this smeet if he had to.

Even if it meant fighting his own family.

"Okay, let's try to get you cleaned up. Sit still now, and no running off!"

He put the smeet down, encouraging Zim to sit. The smeet followed every movement that he made with those all-seeing eyes of his. Then, just as Dib was removing his little pyjama top, there came a soft gurgle from the baby's stomach area. Zim patted his belly. He was hungry.

"That was my angry sister by the way. The one with the tough words and the purple hair. Don't let what she said worry you."

"No worried."

"Good. You must be starving. You haven't eaten since before we landed."

He removed his blue top to see more strange dark green blemishes. Underneath them was that same syrupy liquid, perhaps because this was the under layer of skin that was trying to heal. Using baby wipes, and hoping there wouldn't be any nasty reactions that would drown him in guilt, he carefully smoothed them over the blemishes, taking off any excess skin with it. Zim moaned, leaning away from the wipes and scrunching up his otherwise neutral face that was now contorting into differing stages of discomfort.

"I'm sorry Zim. It'll be over and done with in just a moment I promise."

He wasn't sure how exactly a healthy baby Irken should look, or should behave, but he had a nagging suspicion that the smeet he had was very premature. Maybe they'd kicked him out of his mother's womb, or a hatchery tank early, when the machines monitoring him detected a certain element of deficiency. Maybe they'd slapped the PAK on him to perhaps balance things out? But maybe the PAK had been a bit wonky too.

Now it was time for a question he had wanted to ask for a long time, especially during the voyage home. That need to ask the question mounted whenever Zim fell into a perplexed, and worried silence, or when he looked grieved in random moments. Dib hadn't forgotten that moment when Zim got scared of pigs. "Zim Zam. I want to ask. What happened to you? Before you were taken to Flaxier 19?"

Zim started to moan all of a sudden, the moaning escalating into a throaty whine. Both his hands pressed against his mouth as if to keep in the horror. Both antenna seemed to droop downwards, his frightened eyes trying to dart away from the memory beneath.

It was a reaction Dib never could have expected.

Though he was naked, and sticky with healing wounds, Dib coaxed him back into his arms and rocked him until he felt the smeet slowly start to relax. He noticed the way the smeet's little claws kneaded into the fabric of his shirt. He wished he hadn't asked, even though he was desperate to know, so that he could at least try and understand Zim's nervousness.

"Hole." The smeet whimpered eventually. It was in so tiny a voice that Dib barely heard him. "Big, big hole."

"A big hole? Like a pit?" He asked gently. He didn't stop with the rocking.

He felt him nod.

What did that mean? A big hole? What about it?

Dib didn't want to press the issue, but the questions opened up all the wider.

Had Zim been discarded from the smeet-making factory and placed in a hole - a mass grave for defective babies? At some point, that merchant from Flaxier 19 had come along maybe, and had taken them onboard his ship. Had Zim sat in that hole, Dib wondered, sitting atop dead babies alongside some that were still alive? That would have been plenty traumatic enough to still his voice for as long as it had.

He hoped this wasn't true. He always had a bit of a wild imagination, and coaxed up crazy ideas.

Something so awful, couldn't possibly be true.

"Were there other smeets in this pit?"

Another confirming nod.

"I'm not going to ask anything more, Zim Zam. I'm sorry. But you're with me now. Okay?"

"Okay." He heard him shakily repeat.

Because he had no spare clothes, he wrapped the little trembling baby in a soft pink towel, and took him upstairs to his bedroom.

"Toy." Zim whimpered.

Dib knew instantly what he meant. "It's still in the washing machine. Don't worry. As soon as it's out, I'll dry it, and you can have it back."

His imagination curtailed his thoughts again, like an incoming train throwing itself to the fore. Smeets. Dumped in one steep hole. Left to starve with no food and no love. The merchant had potentially been a hero, taking out the ones still alive, and taking them to the black-market planet to try and give them another chance in an uncaring universe. Perhaps the sides of the hole had been barbed. Maybe the top covered up to prevent any escapes.

If this story was so, it explained the timorous nature of Zim, and the moments of complete loss in his heart. Regardless, Dib felt horribly cold at the mere thought of what his darkest imaginings inspired.

He tried to tuck the little thing into his bed that was huge for a baby. It was getting late, and the smeet's skin felt chilled, but Zim wasn't so prepared to lie down and sleep. He was hungry after all, and naked beneath the sheets, save for the warm towel wrapped around his little frame.

"Just rest, for two hours, Zim Zam. I gotta make some food for you and me but I need you safely in one place or I'll never get anything done. You want your toy too, don't you?"

Zim looked miserable. The bedroom was big, and spacious and very quiet. He had been quite acquainted with the soft purring of the ship's engines, but here there was no background noise.

Dib stroked his head, feeling weighed down with all these new and taxing responsibilities. He had a strong feeling that, like before in the ship, the moment he would up and leave, the smeet would slip out of bed and quietly follow him like the worried and anxious duckling he was.

He had been much the same when he was a child. Always fidgety and restless. The dark had scared him, and he didn't like the dreams he had, so he always went to find his mother after leaving his bed. What his mother did to calm him was to read a bedtime story.

Dib looked around his bedroom, looking for a book that wasn't there. All his childhood books had either been sold off when he was still young but old enough to stop believing in fairy tales, or given away to other children. He may have kept one or two old favourites, but if he had, they had been perfectly buried in this house, as if every one item he owned contributed to a layer of permafrost, each deepening layer affording a glance at his life's history and what he had accumulated and then forgotten about.

Zim had lain down, his head on a pillow, looking up at him with that wistful, attentive gaze. It was a double bed, and Dib didn't fancy sleeping beside him when the time came, in case he forgot he was there in his sleep and crushed the smeet or accidently smacked him over the head with an arm.

"If you stay here, I'll try and find a book, and read to you."

"Read?" Zim almost sounded offended by the notion. "I _can_ read."

"No, no, it's not like that! I read to you!" Oh how could he explain this to so smart a creature? "It's a story. You get to imagine it, while I read it out to you."

"Storey? What's a...storey?"

"It's like something make believe."

He didn't understand that either.

The wind gusted again, throwing up loud rain. Zim squeaked frightfully, and hooked the bedsheet over his head. Dib could imagine Gaz storming out there too, perhaps driving to their dad's lab right now, despite the wind and the rain. She was impetuous. God knows what was going through her head. It was foolish to stay here, and await either outcome set by his sister, but Zim needed stability, and if he took him to someplace new yet again, especially in this weather, he feared the smeet would gain a fever on top of this cold he had, and that would be one thing too much for so frail a baby.

He got up to find that book.

Zim slowly lowered the bedsheet, sat up and watched his foster father start to search the cupboards, those quirky antennas of his wavering up and down as though he was listening to the rain as well as Dib's rummaging quest for reading material. In his eyes, there was a reflection of darkness deep where the stars could not reach.

* * *

 **Guestrev:** Hi there! Hmm, Gaz certainly is scary! And yes, in this AU Dib was still considered crazy, but not as crazy without adult Zim around to emphasis his craziness! XD

 **Guest (May 31st)** : Yeah, who knows what might happen!

 **Springtraplover:** Thank you so much! I'm glad you love it! ;3

 **Guest (July 15th):** I hope this chapter fulfils your need if not all of your questions! I really enjoy writing Dib and his misadventures with this smeet! Sadly it didn't get updated in the summer...I know, I'm awful. I lot of crazy stuff happened and I got seriously behind on Discount.

 **Guest (July 27th- August):** Omg thank you! And I'm really pleased this story meant so much to you! And thank you dearly for reviewing, and letting me have a sneak peak at your thoughts as you read through each chapter! I hope you happen to find this updated too, as it's been so long. I'm a bad updater! The next update won't be so long in arriving this time! Oh and this chapter gives away a tiny sneak peak at why Zim is like he is. And Zim is so forgiving with Dib, despite the accidents when he's tried to learn about Irkens through trial and error. But Dib, he still has so much to learn. And you're right, these two have got very attached to one another! And I LOVE that nickname too! I'm sure it's been used before, but dang isn't it the best! Anyway, I really hope you're still reading this! Thanks again for the amazing feedback, it means the world to me.

 **Hope:** Awww you sweetie! Thank you! There is just not enough smeet Zim out there! I need moar! And dang isn't baby Zim just mouth-wateringly adorable? I hope you enjoy this little update! They'll be a lot more to come! Thanks for being so patient with me!


	10. Irken Deep

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be coming home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against all those who want defectives dead.

 **Warnings**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. AU. Blood and cadaver mentions.

 **Declaimer**

I do not own Invader Zim. However this idea and story is mine.

This gorgeous DAMNRIGHT GORGEOUS story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Alicartin! Please do not use without her permission. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Dib07:** I'm so sorry in advance. I didn't mean it to be this way. Actually I did. But. Fuck.

Huge credit to you **Timmicita**! Please check out his artwork on Tumblr! If you are an Invader Zim fan, or just have an eye for great art, I think you'll love it! I've burrowed a few things from his inspiring artwork. It's scary how similar our visions are, because there was one scene in particular where our minds went to. He has done a generous amount of gorgeous smeet artwork all in all! It's such an amazing coincidence because I was wishing for more smeet-oriented art what, a chapter ago?, and low and behold this saviour comes along and showers us in SMEET! Seriously though, this artist makes smeet Zim even more precious than ever considered possible, and that's just the start of Timmicita's art! He does stunning, jaw-dropping art of Zim and Dib, and they've given me lots of inspiration in dynamite amounts! So thanks again to **Timmicita** who has also done Discount Smeet fanart that I just love. The way he captures the style and shape of the smeet is so very cute. I get all goofy every time I look at them :3 His drawings have sped up this update because they've lit a creative fire under me!

And also a big massive thank you to **Alicartin** as well for all her support, and fanart that boosts me every time! I'm so glad and happy this little story has attracted so much love and devotion. I wish this story would stay cheery all of the time! Sadly it's written by a goof called Dib07, which isn't always a good thing! But thank you, thank you. Your friendship is priceless, and I wish you well in your story writing too!

So, urm, without further ado, here's the next update!

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Irken Deep**

Dib trailed through his collection of books all of which contained content too mature for a smeet. Not for his hyper intelligence of course. He'd probably be vividly enthralled by anything Dib would read to him, as Zim knew nothing about Earth, except that it rained poison, and the terrain was populated by the one dominant species of the planet: human beings. But there was no rich story content to choose from, nothing fun, and no morals to be inspired by. His house was preponderated by a bachelor's life style and nothing else. He had first edition Mysterious Mysteries of Strange Mystery comics and hardcover books, some of which focused on some very dark subjects, and he had books of unremarkable UFO sightings, witness accounts and the like.

Zim seemed to like his room, or found it strange and brutish maybe. Everything here, in this house, in every room, was simpler. Quieter. And more humble than the entailing particulars of a spaceship. Maybe Zim had a fondness for the smooth, clinical sort, where things were typically more rounded. His eyes, great big pink things really, kept looking at Dib's poor design of a door; the big, inelegant wardrobe with its perpendicular lines, and even the style and shape of the double bed. Maybe everything, in its archaic splendour, was both exciting and intimidating for a creature so used to modernised Irken design that was 3000 years in the making. Dib supposed it was like someone from the 21st century landing up in medieval times, and being bamboozled by how outdated and antiquated the world was.

 _You could make a story up, you know. Most parents do._

 _No. I can't just make up stories. I'm no good at that. Besides, I might blunder through a story and make it seem passable to a five year old, but to a hyper smart alien, I would only embarrass myself. Besides, what would I talk about?_

 _No one read me stories. I read them to myself. Dad never had time for me and my sister._

"I'm sorry kiddo. I can't find any stories. Just go to sleep. Please be tired! You must be tired! I can barely keep my eyes open!"

"Can I play then?" He asked simply.

"Play? With what? I have no toys for you right now!"

Zim raised a dainty little hand and pointed a finger at Dib's collection of computers on his desk opposite the bed. He must have eyed them up seconds after being brought into the room. To Zim, they looked as enticing as a cave of wonders.

"Oh no!" Dib cried at once, signally gesturing out an arm as if he was hailing down a taxi. "They're very expensive and too advanced for you, little guy. No touchie! Just sleep! God, mothers sure go through hell!" He muttered, plastering a sweaty hand to his sweaty forehead. He desperately wanted a bath and a big, hot meal. If he could enjoy both of those things before the cops came... "I am your father now, Zim! Which means you _must_ obey me! Now sleep, for the love of god go to sleep before I have a breakdown!" He firmly pushed down on the smeet's delicate bony shoulders despite the stickiness the skin still retained, and pulled up the blanket and tucked him in, the towel hugging his tiny frame to help keep him warm. Zim's eyes always had that sparkling allure to them, even when the lights were dimmed. If anyone else stumbled in here, they would have thought Dib was hoarding two of the world's biggest amethyst-like rubies.

He rushed out of there as if the room was on fire, hoping a quick retreat would shore up the smeet's desire to sleep, with no more requests for toys and hugs.

 _Please god just give me two hours! Two hours all to myself! I love him really I do I just need two hours!_

He rushed all the way downstairs, skipping the final step, then paused at the bottom of the banister rail, ears perked for the sly, obvious sounds of a naughty smeet leaving the bed. But he could hear nothing else save for the hard, abrasive drumming of the rain outside.

He blew out a hard breath and then waltzed wearily into the kitchen like a zombie. He was pretty sure he could gobble down three cheeseburgers and a whole bucket of fries. But, right now a shower was good; a shower was like a call from heaven. He stank, and he was pretty damn sure a cloud of stinky smog was following his every step.

Trying to be as quiet as a mouse in case any noise was too much of an enticement for a smeet to break his slumber time and investigate, Dib tried extra _extra_ hard to be noiseless, so everything took that little bit longer. He ripped off his clothes, threw them into a dirty pile (hearing but not really registering the clunk of something hard hitting the floor), and quietly turned on the nozzle to the shower, and kept the splashes to an absolute minimum.

How did mothers cope? He could not help but praise them for their diligence.

But how could he berate Zim's advent when he was so precious and an absolute wonder to mankind?

And how could Gaz berate HIM?

 _Yeah Gaz, I so obviously never know what I'm doing. Guess building a spaceship with my dad was a fluke huh? Guess getting home after passing through deep space was also a big fluke? Bringing home an alien does cross some lines, I know that. But if you were in my position sis, you would have done the exact fucking same. No one walks away from a child or an animal suffering unless they're a psychopath._

Of course he felt guilty for bringing the creature here, to Earth. Of course he knew the ramifications. Why else had he so desperately demanded to Rath to take the damn thing off his hands?

 _I bought the smeet out of pity._

 _Then I grew to love him._

 _Why is that such a bad thing?_

He was so torn up inside that he forgot to enjoy the warmth of the shower.

Dripping, steamy from the heat, and woozy with fatigue that fogged up through him just as readily, he turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower cubicle, scrubbing his head and body in a blue towel. Then, covering his lower half with it, he bent to pick up the dirty clothing to carry them to the washing machine that was already busy tossing around a plush toy when he felt that hard something underlining the cotton.

 _I don't remember stowing away anything solid. It's not my phone, is it?_

The acorn-thing he had been given was tucked away in the same duffel bag he had carried Zim home in. So what was it?

His fingers pulled it out.

He did not remember ever seeing it.

It looked like a tack, or a metal coin. Glistening over its strange dark metal was a series of little twinkling psychedelic lights. He brought it to his face, staring at it like a dumbfounded ape.

This was not his!

He turned it over, looking for its make of origin like an idiot. But it was the same on both sides.

He was slow in recognizing its purpose.

It had been implanted on him, without his knowing. Blue had not informed him of it, nor could she, when it was probably designed to evade detection, especially when he had so outmoded a ship compared to the modernisation of Irken tech. He probably looked like he was going planet to planet in a cronky old wagon while everybody else had a race car.

"Rath." He growled in one word, his stupefied eyes hardening into cold rage.

 _Can't let me go completely, can you? I carry around an Irken. The enemy could learn a thing or two from a baby, can't they? I know you, Rath, more than you'd dare to think._

 _There is one thing I still don't know: are you my friend? Or are my enemy?_

"You can probably hear me, can't you? Either that, or I'm as mad and as paranoid as you so much so that I'm talking to a piece of metal!"

He stared at the thing: this contrived spherical object that was probably just a bit of Irken jewellery for all he knew.

 _Destroy it._

 _It's the only way to be sure._

How could an alien to another really ever give their trust?

 _Or, or maybe Rath's intentions are good? Maybe, in his strange wisdom, he just wants to know if Zim is being looked after? That's he's not in any danger?_

 _Snooping on you, without your knowing, gives that kind of ill-placed justice no credibility, and you know that Dib!_

 _Destroy it!_

 _What difference will it make? He knows I'm here._

 _But... what if he's here already? What if he followed me home?_

Sour aggravation flipped at once to the terror of the paranoid.

 _No, no, silly Dib! He hates Earth! Called it a dirty spinning ball or something. No. Stop being stupid!_

 _But I need to be ready. In case he ever comes back._

 _Zim needs to be ready for him too._

 _He was born to be a soldier. But I can make him be even better than that._

 _Like to see you try, Dib._

 _Yeah. Me too._

 _I don't want to push Zim. But if Rath ever returns, he's got to know how to fight. Maybe not today, but one day soon, once he's got over his cold, and this strange skin melts. Hah. Yeah. Gods. What have I started?_

 _Wait, wait, hang on!_

"Don't destroy it." He told himself. "As soon as it's light, you're going to go and threw it down a canyon, as far as your car will take you. That'll buy us some time, if he ever does decide to show up. Destroying it might harass him too much, and cause him to arrive prematurely against his 'plans.'"

He nodded, thinking his decision to be pretty smart. Or so he hoped.

 _But he gave me a month if I wanted to bring Zim back. Why all this spying?_

Rath was going to find him in the end though. Whatever he wanted out of the human, he would surely get it.

Perhaps, deep down, the albino was as nasty as the rest of them.

Maybe, being a defect made Zim special. Why else was Rath so interested in him all of a sudden?

Because he didn't want it anywhere near him, felt dirty touching it in fact, he popped it on the top of the medicine cabinet where there was a lot of dust and cobwebs. He then turned his exhausted mind over to happier things: like new, clean clothing and filling his hungry belly. He pulled on a pair of dark navy pyjamas and a gown from the bathroom dresser, and then put on a pair of blue slippers so that he could happily slop around in them.

Instead of going for the fatty choice of burgers and fries, he only had the energy to make himself some buttered toast and some hot decaffeinated coffee. He sat at the table, slowly melting downwards, eyes half open, brain half open too. He did things on sleepy autopilot.

He expected the doorbell to ring, and then the pounding of fists. But no police sirens graced his closed curtains yet. No blips on the radar. No spaceship of Rath's trying to land on his rooftop. It was all very quiet.

Especially quiet, for the smeet upstairs.

The washing machine started beeping behind him. It had finished its cycle and now needed to be emptied. He slung out the wet bear, threw in his dirty clothes, then tossed the bear carelessly into the tumble dryer and set it for 30 minutes.

Seeing how dishevelled and wet the bear was made him feel kind of miserable, and his sister's cold words kept bombarding him anew as the washing machine had bombarded the bear.

Gaz had always hated his softer heart. She had always tried to protect him from life: and it's numerous disappointments. She was smart enough to see the dark in every dream. The decay behind every flower. She was never seduced by generosity: friendship, trust. Instead she had put a brick wall between herself and the world, and she had wanted Dib to do the same.

Never be duped by something that looked too good to be true and you could never be hurt.

She saw Zim not as a helpless baby but as a very big problem.

She saw Dib's parental love as idiocy.

Deep down, they had both desperately wanted friends: someone to get close to, someone who might listen and understand them. But that friend never came. Instead there were people who pretended to be friends, only to later betray the naivety they bore. Gaz closed herself off pretty quick, as she was swift to learn how the world operated, and that, deep down, nobody cared about anybody. Every day there was always new some tragedy that could have been avoided if somebody out there had cared.

Dib knew how hurtful the world was. He wasn't blind to it. But he also couldn't turn his back on it. Not like his sister. And not like Rath.

Zim was a by-product of this universal carelessness and Dib wasn't going to stand by like everyone else was so quick to do.

"And so," cried the deep voice of a man in the parlour, "next on the program, the weather report, and later, a discussion on whether it's appropriate to lend out DVDs to a friend within the laws and prohibitions of copyright."

Dib jolted, his heart in his throat. Then calming logic slowed the spike of alarm. It was the TV! Just the TV!

Not Rath! No NO!

He hurried down the hallway; his foot treads making soft squidgy noises from his slippers. The room was dark, the TV blaring away to itself. The remote was left on the floor.

He bent down to scoop it up.

"Zim?" He looked around briefly before hitting the light switch.

His skin prickled.

Was it Gaz? Staging a setup? Or was it Rath coming to play a little game with him? That Irken and his smile made him think of that Russian roulette game way too much.

Remote in hand, he peered nervously around the sofa. Something small and green flashed away to hide. As he went round to pursue this super suspicious shadow, the smeet slipped out of the room and went to tackle the stairs whilst holding one of Dib's old hairdryers.

As relieved as Dib was, he was still angry.

"Zim! What did I tell you?" As he stormed out the parlour, Zim was already half way up those stairs, but, whether due to his shout, or due to his own clumsy dexterity, he tumbled backwards. Dib slammed a hand to his mouth, watching helplessly as the smeet bounced off the first step, and would inevitably crash all the way down to the floor. In that helpless, awful moment, the PAK brightened to a hot pink, and these devilish prongs of silver snaked out of the smeet's back. They checked his fall, and, being far more dexterous than the smeet himself, spidered their way down the steps with an evil gracefulness. Zim was carried in the midst of them as if he was being cradled in a web, and just like that they floated him back down to the floor and slipped tidily away faster than Dib could put a foot in a sock. There, Zim stood, still naked and still holding that onto that hairdryer as if his playtime offered up such a poor excuse for toys that he had no other alternative but to use household instruments to entertain himself with.

Dib stood there like a nervous idiot for a moment. Those spidery things were perhaps as long as he was tall. This was twice now he had had the misfortune of seeing them spray out of this baby's back like tarantula legs. They made him shiver, and he felt less inclined to get any closer to Zim, let alone touch or hug him.

Zim looked both scared and guilty as if he had no idea what had just come over him. He was shivery, and his bare skin exposed those untidy blemishes. For every one that healed, another took its place, but they weren't looking slimy at all now, were in fact dry raw rubs instead, as if his skin, or his immunity, was tackling and better tolerating this alien atmosphere and the poisoned humidity of the wet outside.

"W-What's the hairdryer for?" Dib asked, fearing the spider legs to make their unbidden return.

"Fix." Zim squeaked guiltily. "Fix machine."

"What machine?"

"Computer. It was of inferior quality."

"Wait? What did you do to my computer? I told you to leave it alone!"

He pushed Zim to one side using his foot and marched up the stairs. He went immediately to his room. There, the bed's blankets had been tossed to one side, and opposite was a sparking computer console. He would later come to discover that Zim had this strange umbilicus that could emerge from one of his PAK's many oval ports, and, using this alien appendage, he liked to jam it into any electrical appliance he fancied the look of. His computer was the first of many of Zim's victims. It could not sustain the highly developed lingo of the smeet's mechanical tech, and had overheated, causing smoke to pour through its vents from the burnt motherboard inside.

Zim held up the hairdryer as if it was the perfect solution. He had followed his astounded father as fast as he had been able. "Fix." He said again.

Dib had no idea what Zim had been trying to do. Other than to destroy perfectly good equipment.

He snatched the hairdryer out of the smeet's tiny little hand. "No! Stop touching my stuff! It's dangerous, playing with electronics! You're gonna start a fire at this rate! I told you to go to sleep, didn't I? And you disobeyed me!"

At that, the smeet stamped his foot on the floor in open rebellion, and both small antennae went flat against his forehead.

Tiny little claws curled into fists, and tears gathered at the bottom of his twinkly imposing eyes that even now were full of colourful majesty.

Dib's anger softened. "You can't sleep, can you?" He said. "You don't like being on your own. It's okay. I understand. I never liked being alone either." He reached out to caress his chin or cheek, but Zim jerked away from him, those beautiful eyes actually seeming to cloud over.

 _Jesus this thing has a temper._

They were both cranky from a long flight home, in an environment none of them were used to.

He remembered that Zim had not eaten, was walking around with no clothes on, and was touched with a phlegmy cold. When he did manage to placate him on the cheek, he felt a fever there too.

"Hey," the human began cheerfully, hoping to catch Zim's better mood, "let's go downstairs, rummage up some grub for you, and we'll sit in front of the TV. I think you had a mind to watch it, like those DVDs you enjoyed on _Blue Thunder."_

Zim made this little grimace, eyes averting his, body stooped in a defensive manner that gave an aggressive suggestion. If he had been any taller, Dib might actually have felt threatened.

There was a soldier inside, confined in the bubble wrap of infancy.

Even as a baby with soft corners and a certain chubbiness to him, Dib imagined he'd grow into a sleek, dangerous beauty - like the rose. And despite the Irken's inherent delicacy, the PAK was designed to overcome what was seen as a natural flaw. And Dib had to be more aware of this PAK device, or risk being hurt by it.

The thorns on a rose carried the same trait. Handle with care.

Maybe Gaz was right.

Maybe he'd really, really fucked up.

The grimace, which would eventually grow into a sneer when Zim was older, softened a little when he sensed his father's hesitation.

But Dib was a world away.

There was no ignoring the implacable brutality these Irkens were born to be. That one eyed Irken, torturing those vortians... the way Rath spoke of the Empire, and how Irkens were immortalised by their servitude to war. But, if he taught Zim to be human too. If he taught him compassion, and principle of it. Then maybe he'd have an Irken far stronger than ever imagined. And together, they could destroy the Empire, and finally stop the machine of war.

Dib's heart suddenly felt heavy.

No. To do that, they'd both be in the path of evil.

Both could die.

Zim would have to go back and face who he was.

He shut his eyes and his heart against, but there was no mistaking the bite of those little claws upon his hand as Zim, sensing his sadness, tried to pull him away from the worried confliction of his thoughts.

Opening his eyes, and finding tears in them, he reached down and gathered the little orphan into his arms.

 _Keep the tracker, Dib._ He told himself. _Don't toss it down a canyon or the toilet to offset his coordinates._ _I think I know what to do now._

 _Let Rath come._

Keeping the smeet tucked against his chest, he walked down the stairs (after unplugging the computer from the mains of course) and went into the kitchen. He opened up the cupboards with his free hand, trying to see if anything inspired him, some article of food that looked safe enough to give to an alien baby. There was a can of condensed milk. And a can of peaches. Both of which were sealed and sterile.

He opened the condensed milk then poured it into a saucepan to bring it to a boil. Doing everything one-handed slowed him down, but Zim had tuckered down against his pyjama top, sliding towards sleep.

When it came to a boil, he poured it into a cup and placed a straw in it. Fetching a blanket under one arm, he made his way into the lounge and let out a long sigh of relief as soon as he sat down on the old couch.

The grandfather clock struck nine.

Still, no Gaz.

The anticipation of her actions, whatever they may be, continued to worry him. But not so much as what Rath might do to them both.

Zim could smell the milk, and he went to reach for it. "No. It's too hot. Wait for it to cool a little." He told him. The smeet let out a surly snort.

Dib hit a button on the remote, and the News Channel came back on. He switched it over to a network that showed cartoons. As something garishly childish played on the screen, he carefully and lovingly wrapped Zim up in the blanket. He was aware of how close the PAK was to him.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you. I can buy a new computer. Just... don't destroy any more of my things, okay?"

That defiant grunt again.

Dib was so tired. He didn't feel like battling him anymore tonight.

"Here. Try a little of this. See if you like it. But only a little." He offered the cup of milk to the infant. Zim sniffed at the straw, grabbed it with both hands, and drank from it.

 _You know what's real scary, Dib?_

 _No, no not now._

 _I just wanna sleep. Please let me sleep._

But the voice of worry wouldn't quit. _If there's a spaceship in orbit, cloaked, no one would know about it. Rath has that staff - sceptre thing, right? Who knows what he can do with that. How easily he can stealthily move around within enemy lines._

 _Rath let me go. He let me leave. He didn't want Zim._

 _Then why the tracker, hmm?_

 _Just a precaution! Just to know exactly where to find me should I activate that stupid talisman he gave me!_

 _How do YOU know what it really does? Do you trust him?_

 _No. No of course not._

 _Well then. Anything is possible._

Zim coughed some. Dib looked to him, scared that he was reacting to the milk. Then the smeet did a squeaky burp that sounded more like the squeak of a dog toy. His antennae stretched out a moment - much of their purpose still a mystery to the human - before the smeet let out a big, squeaky yawn. He settled down against Dib's chest and literally fell limp with a sleep that was instantaneous. And just like that, he was as limp as a doll. Dib had to be quick to cradle his head before it dropped from his shoulder.

"Jesus..." He whispered, spooked by how quickly this thing had plunged into an almost comatose-like slumber.

He rearranged himself slightly, making sure there was no chance of Zim plunging from the cradle of his arm.

Only once he was confident that the baby was warm and secure, did he relax too. Yeah, he was going to get a kink in his neck most probably, or in his back. His arm would go down as the first casualty, but it didn't matter. Zim was finally happy, relaxed and sleeping.

The cartoons droned away in the background like something of a fevered delirium. He knew he should – must – stay awake in case someone might arrive at his door, be it alien or human, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. They dropped on him like anvils, and the cartoons slipped and oozed like oil. No, not oil. Blood. It ran, velvety and red, down the white of Rath's arm. His claws were hunched open like an upturned rake, and his eyes were fixed onto Dib's with terrible intention. Dib jerked away, and brought up an arm just as the claws went down a second time. It saved his chest from being severed, but the tendons in his arm were cut like rope.

"No! No you've got to stop this! Please! This isn't you!" His words spluttered out like the blood.

Rath sneered out a long, condescending smile. "Of course it's me! It's always been _me_!" His voice took on the deeper quadrant of a roar, and he came again, the PAK legs blossoming – unfurling from the PAK's cracks – like emergent plant roots from hell.

He went to run, but, like something sleek and impossibly serpentine, the Irken had slipped round to meet him, claws splayed out, those evil PAK legs cutting off the human's retreat. Those claws raked in his jacket collar, and brought him face to face.

It was not Rath. Had never been Rath.

Those fuchsia eyes containing those stars of mauve and cherry mosaics of wonder glared back at him with a subterranean cold. Beneath those eyes was the ticking of a machine. The cool empathy of an automaton.

"What's wrong? Fa- _ther?_ " Zim cooed in soft mockery. "Think your petty pleas and lies can stop me?"

"Zim! Zim please! Why are you doing this? Stop, STOP!"

He felt those icy claws wind their way around his throat, and he fell into the darkness of those eyes. If he looked deep enough, looked real close beneath the cosmos, he could see a dark opening in the dirt, an opening that led to a tunnel. Down there was the bloody vestiges of a broken mind.

Of limbs twisted.

Rotten things.

Things left to die.

Dib hurtled forwards as if he had been sleeping behind a wall of thorns that needed to be torn down. He forgot entirely about Zim, so deep was his horror that even now, as he blinked at the room, it stained his mind. That tunnel! That dark! He had to get away, had to climb back to the blue of the sky!

The TV was still on, its cartoons pushed aside for commercials. Zim, having been thrown from his father's arms, lay on the floor, terribly winded from the fall. His tiny back was showing, exposing two little oval holes vertically lined up.

A yard or so from him was his PAK. It lay like a melon cut in half, and even now was seesawing up and down from the violence of the fall.

A slow realization was dawning at what he'd just done.


	11. To Be Kind

**The Discount Smeet by Dib07**

 **Summary**

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be coming home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against all those who want defectives dead.

 **Warnings**

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. AU.

 **Declaimer**

I do not own Invader Zim. However this idea and story is mine.

This gorgeous DAMNRIGHT GORGEOUS story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Alicartin! Please do not use without her permission. Thanks for reading!

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 **Tigersfury:** Ah, twas indeed!

 **Yep sure is** : Nope, nope not cancelled! Noo nooo!

 **8confusedspider8:** Thank you so much for discovering this! Hope yofu enjoy this latest instalment!

 **Naga:** Yeah that part was dark! AND...DARK! But oh SO necessary! XD Hope you enjoy this sweeter chapter!

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 **Dib07:** Hi there all! It's been way too long since I last updated and I sincerely apologize. I had never meant this story to be left for so long, and don't worry, this story isn't cancelled or discontinued! I've been having some life issues. It's nothing major, but things have got on top of me lately, and I've been trying super hard to get this story out. I will finish it post-haste as soon as I can! I know you guys have been patient, and that you have been the BEST audience ever! Whenever I updated _Saving Zim_ _Epilogue_ you were all gunning for _Discount_! And I don't blame you! Cute baby Zim trumps anything else! So here we are! Again sorry for the delay! I hope the next update comes sooner than expected too! XD

Oh, as a side note, I am AMAZED and gobsmacked at the reviews suddenly pouring in for _Saving Zim Epilogu_ e to be updated! I cannnot ignore the sheer need and demand for this story to be continued. Honestly I had no idea it would be missed so much! So thank you all for sticking by it, even after all this time! And here I was thinking we were getting tired of a old crouchy Zim! XD I think I was very, very wrong thinking that! Thank you for your massive support! I will endeavour to answer your requests! Readers and reviewers come first, always.

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 **Chapter Eleven: To Be Kind**

"Rath? What _are_ you still doing here? Your docking warranty has expired!"

"Yes, yes." He replied idly, his crimson eyes never wavering from the visual display. From the visual screen he watched that strange young human scrutinize the object he had found in the bathroom, admiring and loathing the device he had found like a curious giant inspecting a rather strange and unwelcome beetle that was especially grotesque. The lens was fish-eyed, lending Rath a bending view of the human's bland room. There was a big white trench standing up against a tiled wall. No, not a trench. It was a bathtub.

Axel stared long and hard at him through the open hatch of _Hazmat_. Though he was of a sleek and handsome length, he still needed to cling to the outside rails to peer in. _Hazmat_ wasn't one of those low bearing scout ships. You needed a portable step ladder to climb to the cabin, or failing that, a quick swing on your PAK legs would do the job.

"White leper. Get going." Axel muttered before lowering himself from the rim of the cabin. Rath heard him, like he heard everything, and some things he chose to acknowledge, and some he chose not to.

"So you found my observer device." He said with a twist of a smile. "What will you do now?"

Dib looked less than his best as the human wobbled thick and full into the frame of the spy camera. He was growing strange dark stubs of hair on his chin. Wasn't that peculiar? And his eyes were bloodshot. Why did humans have so much white in their eyes: backed with little dark pupils? And why did they sprout so much hair on their heads?

He curtly clicked his claws and the visual screen folded into thin air. He leaned back, gnawing angrily on his lower lip.

He did not like the way he had left things.

And Irkens hated loose ends.

He must have been mad, giving that smeet to a human who lived in an uncharted solar system left untouched by the Empire's violence.

Defectives weren't born very often, even less surviving past adolescence. If they survived at all, the Empire weeded them out before they even reached the Academy. It was a quiet and covert business. They were put in a room. The PAK yanked out by an officer, the body recycled and the PAK put in a chute that made its way to the grinder. Rath was one of the few that had survived this genocidal process, but only just. Since his younger days the Empire had improved the administration of what was a perfect soldier and what wasn't. Smeets were being discovered earlier and earlier of any imperfection. They were eliminated while they were still in incubation, or hours or minutes after activation. If it wasn't for Rath's exemplified martial prowess, he too would have ended up like the rest: to be broken down and recycled. The Empire wanted reliable killing machines that would function tirelessly, obediently. Nobody wanted a wonky screw in the great design.

But he had to be careful. Always, that little smeet was sending out a signal in his PAK to the Empire that basically said: ' _I'm here! I'm alive!'_

There were millions and billions to dote on, so it would take awhile for the Empire to notice, and shrug its attention Zim's way, but once the Empire did, it would send an ambassador to go and check for such rogues that had escaped registration. Despite how almighty and perfect the Empire liked to think it was, it had its fair share of deserters and those who didn't fit certain criteria. And they had to be removed. Nothing could go wild from its leash for long.

And if the Empire found that an Irken was on an enemy planet...being fostered by aliens...and that Rath was ever involved...

Well.

Killing the smeet would remedy this of course.

Removing its PAK would disengage the signal. But he wasn't as cold hearted as all that. Not when he could have a viable Irken as his comrade and shield. Defectives sought other defectives. Strength in unity and all that mumbo jumbo. And there was a satisfying need to toughen something that was faulty; something that might cause some justifiable ruckus in the system. It was a long shot. Not hardly worth the effort and risk, others would say. But still, it was hard to let something as unique as him be murdered as all the rest.

Zim belonged with him.

He was nearly done working on the device that would disguise the smeet's faultiness.

Rath started up his ship's engines. One more detour, just one more, and then he'd speed all the way to Earth.

-x-

Time seemed to hang suspended between them for long moments as bright cartoons flashed from the TV. The tiny creature lay seemingly paralyzed on the floor of the carpet, its tiny claws knotted into even tinier palms, its wide eyes wincing from an unknown pain. Light from the TV washed white upon the jade pallor of its skin.

Dib stared at the metal device that had come loose, seesawing just a few feet away. Absurdly it made him think of toys that had these connective parts, and that, when dropped or pulled, they came apart easily. A quick click and they went back in again.

The little trinity of ports in this metal device spurted strong pink a moment and then died to a dull grey as if the bulb inside it had decided to just stop working.

 _It can just...come off? Just like that?_

He blinked stupidly.

Was every Irken built like this? Could every PAK come off? And if so, what did it mean for the Irkens who carried them around like backpacks?

There was a low sullen beeping sound, slower than a metronome, but just as ardent and continuous. At first he wasn't sure if it was coming from the TV, the PAK device, or the baby alien. It was just there, and impossible to ignore.

When Zim next looked up at him, glowering from wincing eyes, he saw fear in them, fear and mistrust amongst the pain.

Dib shook his head clear, the dream still too full around his eyes and ears and thoughts. He bent down, and scooped the PAK into his hands. It was warm and rather heavy for one so small to carry. The two dark holes on its flat side coincided with the ports that were vertically aligned in the baby's spine.

He knew that the PAK was vital somehow. Every Irken carried one on its back, as if they could not live without it. He firmly believed that this spherical egg-shaped thing behaved like a toolbox; a backpack if you will. And that it was a useful way of carrying their weaponry, and well, those spidery awful looking leg things.

Zim rose to his little knobbly knees and then stopped, his antennae strung low, but taut. In under a minute his skin began to turn mottled and greyish as he looked anxiously at his foster father, but he looked at Dib as if the human had turned into a snake. His breathing turned heavy and difficult as if he was under strain, but his eyes remained haunted, watchful.

Dib stood back up, and approached him with the PAK held upright in the palm of his hand as if he was carrying a bowl. He got the strong foreboding that this device was a little more important than a simple container of tools and the like.

"I'm so sorry. I...I had a bad dream." His voice was half choked in regret. He hadn't meant to throw Zim off him like that.

Zim did not take his eyes off him once.

"Hey, what's gotten into you? Have I hurt you?" He went to touch him, and Zim miserably yowled. He looked uncomfortable, and confused, like an animal that had hurt itself and didn't know where or why the pain had come. "Is this supposed to come off, little guy?" He lifted the PAK a little. The Irken reached for it, but then drew back, clutching himself with sudden cold. His eyes went wider, and lost their focus on Dib as if something else had robbed his attention. When he next took a squeak of breath there was this long, scratchy death-wheeze.

Dib certainly did not like the sound of that.

He went round to the back of the smeet, and held the PAK up towards those mirrored holes in the baby's spine, but he had no idea which way up it was supposed to go. He had seen the PAK on him long enough to surely know by now if the two pink mantle ports of the shell were on the bottom or on the top, but for the life of him he suddenly could not remember. Did he just click it back into place? Should he shove it in?

The PAK abruptly took over, as if being in close proximity of its host woke up internal connectors. Twin tubes snaked out like roots, and sunk into the holes in Zim's spine. Then the PAK latched on, like a metal parasite, and Dib swore he saw it tighten. The marriage of Irken and machine wasn't a tidy, smooth affair, even if the tubes went back in without a hitch. Electricity bolted through the smeet's tiny frame as if he'd been hit by a strobe of lightning. Antennae pointing to the ceiling, his limbs shaking, Zim squawked out in agony. Then there was a stillness and the baby blinked some before looking around, hardly believing it was over.

Dib watched, astonished and nervous.

The PAK... was it like some power supply? If so, where did the power come from? And how exactly did it serve the Irken?

The dull grey ports in its mantle blazed into a comely pink. The light bulb inside had turned back on. To mirror this returning vitality, Zim's skin returned back to a jade shine. His breathing was also back to normal – thank god – and there were no deathly noises coming out of his tiny chest.

Could they not live without these devices?

He tried to imagine living life eternally hooked by some great machine on his back. It was just too awful _to_ imagine. A good hard push and these things came right off.

"Does it hurt?" Dib went to put a hand on him, just to rub him up and down, but Zim flinched, little body tensing. "It's okay. That was a shock for both of us." He tried again, and this time the little smeet did not flinch when he touched him. His skin felt chilled, as if he hadn't the energy or the life to warm himself should the PAK be absent. "I had a nightmare." He continued, looking for forgiveness. At his words, Zim softened again. He knew of nightmares too. "Can you... can you control this thing on your back?"

The smeet's spherical eyes glittered a little as he pondered the question. Then he shook his head.

"Maybe I can teach you? You've already used it accidently a number of times." He smiled to placate the alien, but Zim did not smile back. The fall, the dislocation of his PAK, it had been sudden, painful and frightening. Like the feeling of being pushed off a cliff, and being victim to the long fall. He also seemed suspicious of his new father – it was an inherent Irken fear - as the human had accidently discovered his main weakness, and placed him in a kind of terrifying vulnerability.

Dib cast his eyes to the clock on the mantle. Half four in the morning. He'd slept, but the sky was mostly a dark, brooding blanket, with just a slither of silver moon warming one quarter of it. Zim started to shiver aggressively, overcome with vulnerability and cold. Dib wrapped the little thing in his warm fuzzy gown and cradled him tightly to his chest. A soldier he was carrying, that was for certain, but a baby soldier nonetheless who was smaller than most, and wasn't born as perfect as the rest. But when he sat back on the sofa, Zim seemed to sit on a certain element of growing distrust. He pushed against his father, meaning to wriggle free. Dib loosened his grip and let the smeet slide down his lap and scramble to the floor.

There was a knock. Dib rose blindly, sucking in breath. The police were here! Who else would arrive so early in the morning? The knocking on the door continued. Zim made a terrified little squeal as he dove underneath the curtains. He had sensed them coming long before he had. It was something he'd lean on implicitly in the future.

Rath. Could not be Rath.

 _Open the door and find out. It's not like he doesn't know where you live. I think he outsmarted you from the start, Dib old buddy._

He opened the parlour curtain a little and peeked out into the dim light of moonshine, his tired eyes trying to source the intruder, but his front doorway was covered by brick wall and bush from this side. He turned into the hallway, thinking of just grabbing the baby, and his keys, and making a run for it out the backdoor when he could hear his sister shouting from outside.

"Dib! It's me! Wake your sorry ass up!"

Gaz? Hell, she probably had about a dozen cops or soldiers at her back, guns pointing at his front door. She'd sell him out for cold hard cash. But when he cranked open the door, ready to see these villains in blue uniforms, flashing badges and guns, he was daunted to see that it was only his sister standing on the welcome mat. He was so glad to see her, and not guns and cops and white aliens that he wrapped his bony arms around her. Gaz blinked, equally surprised by this sudden display of affection. She patted his back woodenly, not sure how to react. "Dib? What's gotten into you?"

He took a step back, eyes pragmatically checking the vicinity for anyone looking even the slightest bit suspicious. He thought he saw something lean and white standing perfectly still by someone's distant garden wall, but when he looked, there was no one there. Just a flag pole. He lifted a hand and used it to rub at his eyes behind his glasses. He was so darn tired.

"Do you still have it?" Gaz pushed past him as if he weighed about as much as a packet of beans. She was carrying a big plastic bag, he saw. It had G&G written on it in a typical supermarket slogan.

"You mean the baby?" He asked, sounding quite gruff in turn. He would not stand for her calling Zim an 'it.' He shut the door, but not without giving the sleepy street one more hard, cold look. There was nothing menacing to see. Was he just paranoid? He supposed one had to be, when they were hiding an alien from the world. He closed the door. "So." He began, "Where's the platoon of cops you promised? The handcuffs? The straight jacket? I'm walking free, Gaz. Doesn't that trouble you at all?"

She walked into the kitchen, all casual like as if she owned the place. She set the heavy bag down on the table. Maybe the handcuffs were in there, and the straight jacket.

"Where is it?" She repeated. She looked fucking pristine for turning up so early and out of the blue. Hair all straightened, the bottoms turned into purple curls, her eyes coldly looking out from black mascara, cheeks so pale they were white. She looked a lot like a porcelain doll, with those dark staring eyes from a perfectly oval face that had always been delicate. But frail she was not.

"Look, Gaz..."

She turned to him, looking indifferent. Looking calculated. "I've sat in my car, most of the night, you know. Thanks to you."

"Good for you." He returned sarcastically.

She sneered at him, sneered at him like one of those Irkens he'd seen on Emporium. "I was sitting outside a police station! I had to think about what to do with you, Dib!"

"How is that any different from what you do every day?" He countered.

She lifted her hands in exasperation. "God! You drive me crazy!"

"What else is new?" He stood in his gown, arms folded, eyes flinty and sharp. Compared to her he looked and felt shaggy. Like he'd just been dragged through a good half a dozen hedges.

"I came to..." Gaz sneered again, her dark eyes of stormy amber looking about herself for a moment. "...help with the...thing."

"You mean the baby." He was not convinced. "And why would you do that Gaz? When you've been sitting outside a police station all night, considering my worth as a brother?"

"That alien is going to get you killed! I want to protect you from your own idiocy! That was why I sat and procrastinated! But locking you up is not going to change your stupid ways, is it? It'll only make you miserable and more crazy and I don't want that! And as heartless as you think I am, I'm not keen on the idea of the cops hurting tiny baby...alien things."

If that was her way of 'impressing' him, she had a long way to go. He had to give her some credit, he supposed. She struggled with human empathy, and she was a bit too logical and cold to really understand the heart of what he did and why. "What changed your mind?"

"Well. It's kind of cute..."

"Come again?"

Now she looked mad. "I said it looks kind of cute, Dib! Alright? And I usually can't stomach cute things! Besides, you'll only get into more trouble if I don't help, and who knows what dumb things you'll do when you're not supervised!"

This riled him up, more than he let on. God he hated her sometimes, which contradicted his usually mild and calm temperament. He loved his sister, more than anything, but she couldn't put any faith in him. She took to the strong path, and that was fine and dandy, but it had turned her into stone, and made her find faults with anyone else.

"What's in the bag?" He snapped.

She looked at him, narrowing her dark-rimmed eyes. He was upset. He had this sulky air to him when something or someone had jarred him. "Last I came, that 'baby' of yours barely had rags for clothes. You owe me some sixty bucks."

He came forwards reluctantly, and peered into the plastic bag. It was full of toys, and tiny oh so tiny clothing for things delicate and dainty. He picked one out. It was a little white fleecy hoodie with a baby lion stitched on the front. He looked at her, something new and warm in his eyes, replacing the steel of his suspicion.

"You haven't been getting much sleep, have you?" Her biting words mellowed on the instant. Gaz could see the dark bags under his eyes, and noticed the trembling in his hands. "You're gonna make yourself sick."

"I've got a responsibility."

"What happened to you, Dib? You never were one for close guarded secrets. Now all you do is hide things from me."

He blushed a little at that, and looked away, that anger spreading across his eyes just as readily. She could tell how fiercely he protected the alien. And that he was indeed keeping secrets. There was something he wasn't telling her. Something big. And what could carry more significance than a baby alien from another world? He was a stranger to her now. He'd been to many strange worlds, and he had got stranger with each approach into space. His boyhood years had gone, and he'd returned to Earth, different in so many ways, yet he still looked like the brother she so loved. He had that tendency to be goofy, and short-sighted, but there was something that had hardened his heart. And in his eyes, there wasn't just stubbornness and anger. There was a certain edge of fear to him too. She had a feeling it wasn't a fear of the press, or the cops.

' _Stay out there too long Dib, and you won't know how to return to your life here on Earth.'_ She had told him once. He had stood on the steps on _Blue Thunder,_ about to go out there again, a lone pioneer travelling through endless abyss. He was brave. Braver than she. Her feet would remain on the ground, where she belonged. His head had always been in the stars, but adventures had their dangers. Now he had brought something from the abyss back with him.

She was always afraid he'd lose a piece of his humanity, being up there, in the void, for too long. She hated their father for going along with Dib's space exploration, and funding him and anything he could possibly want and more. Both of them were obsessed with making the impossible, possible. They'd forgotten long ago what was actually important.

Now a lean man was looking back at her, eyes dark and as strange as the stars he sought. He'd gone too far this time, in her heart she knew, and he'd put his hand in Pandora's Box.

She would wait. She was very good at playing the waiting game and sooner or later, he'd tell her exactly what kind of trouble he was in.

True to her suspicions, he did not answer her. "And you'll help me and Zim, how?"

"By being cruel, but kind, for the both of you. So, where is he?" She planted her delicate hands on her hips.

He pointed towards the parlour.

She didn't hang around, and went waltzing in.

It didn't take long to spot this little, trembling huddle under a skirt of curtain overhanging from the window. She lifted it up and watched the thing stare back from shimmering eyes. Gaz growled to herself. She had never seen herself as a kind and motherly figure, and struggled to show gentleness. It came to her awkwardly.

"You're Zim? Right?"

The baby had backed into the wall. Its pale green skin showed not one shred of clothing. Did it not like to wear clothes? Did it overheat or something? But the way it shivered made her suspect that it was feeling very cold.

"Back off." Came this tiny squeak of a voice.

She blinked. Did this baby just rebuff her? It hadn't done anything of the like earlier.

Gaz made a move to get closer. His antennae lurched upright and he yelped a frightened shriek at her. A wary wild animal would have behaved no differently, but there was an intrepid look in its eyes that warned her to keep her distance.

Dib was there – the protective father – and scooped the little thing into his hands as if it weighed not much more than a teaspoon of sugar.

"I wasn't going to hurt him." Gaz stood up; watching the way Dib pressed the baby closely to his chest. The metal sphere on its back was glowing a hot vivid pink.

"He's just...not used to anyone else."

"Do you just let him run amok in the house? With no clothes on?"

"I had to wash his clothes. He only had the one pair. The rain made him...sick and sticky."

"Honestly, brother." She rolled her eyes. "Don't you know anything? Here. Let me." She turned towards the plastic bag, opened it wider, and brought out the white fleecy hoodie with the sleepy lion on the front, complete with white and grey stripped pants with a thin grey vest to go underneath. "You've got a lot of blanks to fill in for me." She was saying as she held up the tiny clothing.

Dib rocked the little thing in his arms. "I guess so." That stubborn evasiveness again. He had grown completely attached to the baby of his own choice and devotion it would seem. When he was allowed free rein of the stars, he seemed to get himself into deeper and bigger trouble. And yet he could not understand why she didn't hold the same fascinations, and why she had never wanted to go into space even for the briefest of visits.

"Well? What is it? Does it have a species name?"

"He's Irken."

"And do they tend to be a peaceful, fun-loving race that only wants to help and serve?"

He hesitated, looking stricken. "They tend to lean on the dominant spectrum of things."

"Meaning?" She pressed tartly.

"They're hatched, and bred to be soldiers. But this one's broken."

"Dib. Saviour of the Broken." She looked nonplussed. "Found your true calling, have you?"

"Lay off!" He shouted.

"I was only joking. I said I was here to help, so here I am. Set him down so we can at least put on some clothes on the poor thing."

Dib gave her that old reluctant look he often gave her when she'd asked him to do something that involved a nasty trick of some kind. Old childhood habits never really went away. He set Zim on the kitchen chair by the table that made the smeet look all the smaller. The tiny green creature looked to Dib for protection, for reassurance. It had that uncertain look babies had when they'd been taken from their mothers and families too soon. They'd turn out insecure, bad mannered, and clingy. Gaz had known a young husky dog with behavioural problems purely because the owners had taken it from its mother when it had only been five weeks old. It needed to learn correct behaviour from its own species.

"You say it's broken. Broken how?" Gaz asked. She made to slip the vest on over its head, but the alien flinched, shying away as if she was a threat.

"He wasn't born right. Rath said that his PAK..."

"Pak? Is that what this thing is called?" She pointed at the metal bulge on its back. Luckily she did nothing stupid like tug at it.

"Yes!" He blew out a loud sigh. "Will you just shut up for one second and let me do the talking for once?"

Gaz blinked, surprised at his backlash.

He took the clothing from her with that same checked anger, and started putting it on the smeet. He never carried his temper over to the alien. He was careful, patient, guiding tiny, thin arms through the sleeves. Zim was smiling happily, showing that one tooth that often hung over his bottom lip. He squealed when Dib paused to tickle his tummy. Gaz waited and watched, amused at this fatherly display of affection Dib was showing. He never had much interest in humans, or girlfriends for that matter. Hunting after the paranormal was all he was ever invested in, that and yearly space travels that limited his social status to nothing. She just hoped things would turn out okay, that this remarkable friendship would work. But she knew in her heart that it couldn't.

Sometimes, Dib seemed to forget that he was a human being, faced with human limits.

"Okay." She said. "Who the hell is this Rath?" She was tired of playing the 'waiting' game after all; tired of being patient, only for her brother to stubbornly refrain from expanding his tale. Was he ashamed? Was it hard to explain perhaps? Or was he afraid? She tried to read him. He used to be this little predictable boy who couldn't hide a secret, and couldn't contain his emotions. Whether he was happy or sad, she knew. Now this young man was reproachful. Guarded, and wary. Like the distant stars. Seen from a distance. But never truly known.

But when she brought that name into question, a distinct shadow loomed over her brother's face.

She looked at this Zim of his, forcing herself to lighten up, and even smile when he gazed inquisitively her way. She was aware that this thing carried diseases. Alien viruses not known to this world; and that opening herself up to her brother and his new pet may very well doom them.

 _Does it eat flesh? Or is it more like some placid animal that likes fruit?_

It was strangely like a bug. It had these long, sleek black antennae that bobbed and flexed and tensed frequently like whiskers on a cat. It had great, bulgy bug eyes of starry crimson that seemed to see all. Its frame was very bony and very delicate. It probably bled yellow sludge too, just like a bug. Why couldn't he have adopted a baby tiger or something instead? But no. That would have been too normal.

"Rath. Rath is... another Irken. An adult." He eased the pants on. Zim seemed to try and help by pulling them up before Dib could. Then he was grabbing the creamy white hoodie but had it back-to-front. Dib turned it back round again. "It goes on like this, see?" He told the little thing as if it had half a brain with which to think. Zim babbled some happy noise when it went on, and plucked at the new fabric with ductile claws. Then he hugged himself, as if pleased with the enriching warmness the clothes were making him feel. He had been cold after all.

Dib quickly explained to her how he had hoped to pass Zim off, inundated with sudden responsibility and ignorance to a baby alien's care and needs. He had gone to Rath, an albino Irken who had docked on a military governed planet. He went on about quadrant systems and planet names and races, most of which went over her head. She tried to imagine where he'd been, what he'd seen, but found it hard to even picture it without imagining the scenic qualities of Earth in some way.

"Rath is about this high." He made a gesture with his hand, angling it above his waist. "He's white, with these mean, squinty eyes that pierce straight through you. He walks with a limp, but I doubt he ever had an injury."

"Okay." Gaz said, trying to sound interested. She did not want to put him off, and honestly was engaged even if it was hard for her to convey it. She knew he could not be making it up. Her brother was many things, but a liar was not one of them.

"At first he didn't want Zim. Said he was a defective, and that all things weak and broken are better off flung to the wayside. But then..." He shrugged, gloomy in thought. "But then he changed his mind... thought there might be a way to conscript Zim into the service of war by faking this...defectiveness of his. He wants me to get him stronger. Strong enough, anyway, to be Irken."

"You're telling me that these are military creatures Dib? Don't they have other talents? Other hobbies?"

"No. No they don't." He spoke as if he knew well enough what they were.

"And why does Zim have to go into service?"

"I didn't know what else to do at the time! I just sorta shrugged at the idea. Lions are supposed to be lions. Irkens are supposed to be Irkens. I thought...I thought this Rath knew best. But I've been doing some more thinking. And I have reason to believe he could be spying on me."

 _Spying on you?_

Her brother was no doubt highly paranoid, and who wouldn't be, after taking a creature from its home to a place it didn't rightly belong? None of them had been on Earth long. And Dib, well, he'd always been the suspicious and uptight sort on any normal given day, sure that people were watching him, and taking notes. Being in space so long had only embroidered this issue. Personally, she would have hated being in so big a space ship, alone, left to hear the creaks and the groans as the vessel laboured through a lonely black void that tempted death. Who knows what imaginations and demons it conjured.

"So... what makes this little baby you have a defective? He seems fine to me, I guess." She knew she was talking out of her ass. It probably had a whole library of diseases and crippling issues, none of which she could see from the outside. Its great oval bug eyes were clear and starry, _and so_ expressive. It showed no signs of sickness, but her reluctance to believe otherwise remained grounded.

"Here. Hold him." He said suddenly. He lifted the little thing under the arms, leaving its tiny legs to dangle.

"No, no Dib I really don't want to."

"Too bad," he said, ignoring her disgust, "if you wanna help me, here's your chance."

He plopped the little thing into her lap. The same obedience and trust he showed to his father, he did not show to her. Instantly he tensed up, eyes taking on a more suspicious gaze that dimmed the stars in those gossamer orbs of swirling fuchsia. A beauty he was, so smoothly and softly curved with a slender frame and a strong skull. Even his motions emphasized this svelte, delicate grace. He even felt fragile. The PAK ports, all three of them glowed a healthy pink from within. Its quirky black antennae seemed to feel the air like fingers. She could see a tiny subway of delicate green veins running through its neck and wrists and collarbone, proving how thin and young its skin was. Its bones were light and frail. She could have said it weighed about as much as a kitten.

Shyly the baby looked at her before swiftly looking away again – and its gaze one of acute intelligence. She could see now why Dib held him so dearly. Slowly she raised a hand, and the baby Irken regressed a little, doing this uncertain little scowl. She placed her fingers on the back of his head, and stroked him. It had been so long since she'd felt any kind of sentimentality or love for an animal. She smiled the slightest. It was hard to stay cold. Hard to stay indifferent. The Irken did not relax, but the antennae curled and lifted, showing attentiveness perhaps, or understanding. He was feverishly warm to the touch, his skin feeling impossibly smooth.

She could imagine him growing into something equally as bony and as slender, with hard eyes that could be just as beautiful like cut petals. This thing, of all chubby eyes and chubby smiles, could be an adult in as soon as a year, or a decade. What was their growth span like? Their maturity? And what was their life span? Mere days, years, or centuries?

He flinched and shied every time she stroked him.

Dib went on. "So far as Rath told me...defectives have faulty PAKs. A PAK is that device in his spine. It's like some cerebral neurological symbiosis between his body and a computer, I guess. And every so often, I suppose an Irken comes out of the hatchery imperfectly, kinda how nature gives out runts. Zim'll be susceptible to complications later in life."

"And how could your Rath know all this?"

"Because...because he's a defective too. He knows what it's like, and how the Irken Empire treat them." Gaz was shaking her head, not quite onboard. "Imagine the PAK like a shiny new laptop." Dib tried to explain. "It needs to link up to the internet so it can get updates, and can be scrutinised and examined by its makers; the government say, to make sure all is honky dory."

"Right." Gaz said, understanding that perfectly enough.

"But the laptop is corrupted. It doesn't quite log on, so it's harder for the officials to check it, and not all updates go through smoothly. And because his PAK is harder to control, it makes him harder to be indoctrinated, say. These Irkens have real core feelings. They're not the drones the Empire wants them to be. They are able to think a little clearer than what they're supposed to. And because of this, they adopt self-preservation, when Rath says that Irkens are taught to be hive thinkers and hive thinkers only. But apparently these PAK's also control the immune system, his organ metabolism, and his rate of growth. So we'll see how he grows and if he'll stay healthy."

"Dib...this sounds pretty..."

"Crazy?" He ended for her. Zim was watching him, looking appalled that he had been left discarded on a stranger's lap.

"Yeah. Crazy. You do like to put your hands in Pandora's Box and ask for the consequences later, don't you?"

"I was only thinking of him."

"You're not going to tell dad are you?"

"I already made it clear what I think of that."

"And how are you feeding this little skinny thing?"

"I had bought Irken formula with me, but had to dispose of it upon re-entry in case dad's scientists and engineers discovered anything leading to his discovery. They go through my ship with a fine toothed comb. In the meantime, I gave him milk that had been well and truly boiled."

"And his skin? Last I saw him, it was peeling off. Like he'd been burned. You said it was because of the rain."

"Yes. The rain." Was all he'd say. He looked distant for a moment, his mind miles and miles away. Then he blinked, and he was back in the room. Despite how tired and haggard he looked, frayed at the edges most certainly, his amber eyes shone a strong gold she hadn't seen in a lifetime. And he smiled. "I know I acted rashly, and I know what I've gone and done might just be the end of me, but I wouldn't change it for the world. Zim would have died if I had done nothing."

"Dib. You're too soft-hearted."

"And maybe that's just what an Irken needs." He smiled again, adding as if to mock her; "I'm not sick and I'm not coughing blood. Guess he's not infectious to humans after all."

"So far as you know." She jibbed. "You might break out into purple spots as soon as tomorrow, and so will I."

"Will you stay the night?" He finally asked, looking crestfallen the next moment.

"Sure." She said. "What the hell. Are my old things still kicking around or did you throw them in the garbage?"

"No, I held onto them."

"Gazzy." The smeet said in a sing-song voice. But his eyes were dark and fretful. When he next looked up at her, his eyes were the colour of rose petals, and behind them was something dark and thorny. Dib lifted him off her lap before the stare persisted, and when he cuddled him the baby squealed happily, eyes bright and cheerful again. She recognised that look: the one that came before. It had seen things. Known things a young mind shouldn't know.

There was pain behind it, and anger too.

-x-x-

It squeaked and squeaked like one of those rubber chew toys you bought for your dog. Dib petted its head, and tucked the covers up to its chin. She wasn't sure if this was the sound of its laughter, or the sound of its coughs.

She had slipped into her old dark purple pjs that were a bit thin from long years of use. She had lost weight, or the elastic band had seemingly lost its tightness because she had to keep pulling the pants up.

It was strange, sleeping over her brother's, almost as if he was half a stranger. The last time they'd slept under the same roof, she had almost been nineteen and he was hitting twenty. Now things were different. She didn't know him quite like she used to. He even smelled and moved differently. The Dib she knew, the Dib she had penalised and had fun with had died the moment he'd stepped into Blue Thunder, and gone beyond the Event Horizon.

Gaz peeked round the doorframe, watching her brother tuck this tiny tiny thing into his bed that became an ocean of mattress to so small a baby.

"Gazzy staying?" Came Zim's shrill voice. His words were much more hesitant, as if he was still getting used to the human speech, and what words sounded like when he used his tongue to speak them. He pronounced words slightly differently, as if he was speaking phonetically.

"Yeah. For now. Do you... Do you think Rath will return?" He was asking it, as if this alien had a clue. But he wasn't speaking to the smeet in the syrupy way people talked to their pets. He was talking to Zim in the same serious cadence he used when he spoke to Gaz.

There came a sudden, plaintive shriek. Gaz started where she stood, and when next she peeked round the door the smeet had sat up in a flash, his tiny claws weaving into Dib's robe sleeve.

"Shhh, hey, Zim Zam. Forget what I said."

That persistent squeak again. It was definitely not laughter.

"You have a powerful device on your back Zim. With my sister on our side, I think we ought to teach you how to use it. I've seen other Irkens use them. You remember those spider legs? You activated them. It might bring you a bit of confidence."

"Don't remember how." Came that tinny reply.

"You'll get the hang of it I'm sure." In the room, Dib stroked the smeet plaintively. There was a shadowy fear in his eyes, but when he smiled it was warm and assuring. "All Irkens learn eventually, right?" Little did he know how exactly young Irkens learnt such skills. "We'll talk about it in the morning. Well, I know it _is_ morning already, but..."

The dawn light was warming the closed curtains. It was a chilly yellow, and very much unlike the 'predawn' simulations Blue used to emulate morning light.

Zim sagged back down, but he coasted a look his father's way, as if suspicious he'd move off and leave as soon as he relaxed. "It's dark." He said. It wasn't really all that dark, but Dib gave in and turned the lamp light on.

"There." He said.

"Earth air taste funny." He said again as if to keep Dib from shepherding him to sleep.

"I'm sure you'll get used to it."

He watched his sleek black antennae bob and move. They were like velvet to the touch, not that he touched them often. They were so delicate that it was a wonder Zim did not react adversely when they lay limp across the pillow. But settle down he did, pulling the blankets up to his chin himself.

"Nice here." He squeaked. "Hate stupid rain."

When Dib lay down beside him, he had a cosy, safe look about him, but the moment the human so much as brushed against his PAK, Zim tensed on the instant, smile turning into a scowl. He was afraid. It tore up that baby look that he had, setting in the seeds of something else.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Dib said quickly, realizing how sore the smeet still was about it. He didn't know how to make it up to him. It had been an innocent accident, something he would never do again. He supposed he'd feel just as vulnerable if his arms could detach so easily. Even so, he had put the information in his pocket. Rath was prone to the same vulnerabilities.

He snuggled down, scooping the baby against his chest. Zim fell asleep listening to the human's heartbeats.

Dib's dreams at least, were kinder to him.

Zim was far older. He was a lean adult with a triumphant sort of confidence on his face. He was behind the console, guiding the ship through a vortex of lashing colour. Dib was his co-pilot. In that space, in that time, he felt like they had known each other for years.

A cold dangerous look Zim could give; it was a trait all Irkens had, with that stony stare and hard snarl. That confidence fell however, and that stony look returned when those washing bright lights hit the port side of the ship. Both of them were hurled against their seat restraints. They weren't in a swirling vortex.

They were under enemy fire, and the lightshow were laser beams from the hostile ship.


End file.
